


Savior

by CoffeeQuill, one_golden_sun



Series: Kingdom Come [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Arranged Marriage, Assassination, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bonding, Character Death, Demigod Alexander, Demigod Lafayette, Demigods, Dirty Talk, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling In Love, False Accusations, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Forbidden Love, Forced Marriage, Happy Ending, Immortals, Isolation, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Mortal John, Multiple Orgasms, Poisoning, Sexual Assault, Sexual Roleplay, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_golden_sun/pseuds/one_golden_sun
Summary: John Laurens was a gentle soul. Gorgeous, kind, and strong, he was the treasure of his village. Beautiful dark curls framed his face, braided with flowers, and his skin was tanned well by the sun. His body was of athletic build, with strong and defined muscles. He was a ray of sunshine himself, dazzling those who knew him and catching the eye of every youth in his village. A boy like him could only be blessed by the gods themselves.Lafayette was utterly in love.





	1. Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> This fic was written with the lovely help of one_golden_sun, who has amazing LafLams stories you all should check out!
> 
> This is also the first fic of a series that I will be making (yet to be named). More demigod fics are soon to come.

Humans were curious things. Most prayed to deities in the sky, and some turned away. Most followed their deities’ rules as best they could, forgiving any mistakes, while some killed over such mistakes. They fought wars over petty disputes, flooding the Underworld with new souls, and crying the names of their deities as they rushed towards their death in battle. Some resigned themselves to a quiet religious life, burning sacrifices and praying for peace.

This one, though… There was something special about this one.

John Laurens was a gentle soul. Gorgeous, kind, and strong, he was the treasure of his village. Beautiful dark curls framed his face, braided with flowers, and his skin was tanned well by the sun. His body was of athletic build, with strong and defined muscles. He was a ray of sunshine himself, dazzling those who knew him and catching the eye of every youth in his village. A boy like him could only be blessed by the gods themselves.

Lafayette was utterly in love.

Hercules scoffed at him.  _ You fall in love with every virgin flower you see.  _ Lafayette knew, though, that John was different - but he couldn’t figure out  _ how.  _ Was it his beauty? Or the way he saved himself, barely holding hands with another peer, ready to wait until marriage? The way he obeyed his father’s commands, studying to become a politician, even when he cared not for it? Or the care he showed towards every life he encountered?

Or was it how he had defended that woman and taken a beating for it?

The events still played out in his mind from time to time. The day had been closing, the arrow burning out, and Alexander was in the middle of a story. He got the tug, the sensation of a prayer being made to him, but surely whatever it was could wait? The prayer was frantic, though, and pulled him from the gathering. He watched as one of his followers, a quiet-spoken courtesan, one who was faithful and hardworking. In an alley off the main thoroughfare, a potential customer refused to pay, slapped her when she asked gently for her money.

John and a gaggle of his peers were all coming from the local tavern, some more intoxicated than others. And John, a shimmering beacon in the harsh night, his attention drawn to the scuffle in the alley. Lafayette felt like he himself had been smacked senseless, watching this lovely young man breaking away from his reveling friends to rush to the side of the woman. He crouched on the ground with her, and as she told him in sobbing gasps how her client had refused to pay. 

The drunk man loomed over them. John stood his ground. Demanded he pay, that he uphold his head and his honor, and as his voice rang out in the night, Lafayette was enraptured. Caught up. This beautiful boy, no more than twenty, twenty-one, a lovely light in a deep dark night, confronting this callous drunkard. Put himself between the aggressor and the woman. Told him once more to pay, to give her what she was owed. 

The knife glinted in the lantern light.

Later, as John lay bleeding in the alley, his perfect face carved up, his friends scattered, Lafayette’s heart ached. The whispers in the village, the gossip of their most treasured, faithful boy, losing his beauty...his worth...to a drunken dispute over a “whore.”

From then on, Lafayette watched John. Watched him heal. Watched him study. With his friends, his family, on his own. And the love in his heart took root, blossomed until it felt like an entire forest inside him. 

\-----

He was sitting by a tree in the meadow, the setting sun lighting up his features as he turned the pages of his book. The scar ran above his eyebrow, ugly and jagged - the second followed along his cheek, just as distracting. They were the sort of marks that took away beauty, took away his loveliness. Revulsion burned in his gut. How dare any drunk filth leave scars on this perfect angel? No matter how terrible the punishments Lee came up with for souls who deserved them - Lafayette would never be satisfied.

John sighed. He turned the page and continued reading, his misery coming off him in waves that hit Lafayette like bricks. He was looked at differently, less pretty, more… human, in their eyes, he supposed. As human as the rest of them. If he were so blessed, why hadn’t a god come and stopped that drunkard from harming him?

Lafayette knew. John’s strong faith and humility had earned Eliza’s blessing but he was not invincible. It followed the strange ways of humans - they assumed that those gifted with beauty were untouchable, and when they were proved wrong, the person in question was seen as lesser. Ridiculous, in Lafayette’s opinion. 

The grass was light and soft between his toes as he stepped onto the earth, the air and sunshine hitting his skin. As the breeze rustled through his hair, he walked towards the boy. His arrows shifted in his quiver and he hung his bow across his shoulders. He stopped just before John, who didn’t react until Lafayette’s shadow fell across him. He looked up.

Lafayette smiled. “John Laurens?”

John stared up at him. “I-I - um - that’s… that’s me,” he said. He shut the book and stood, the length of his garment falling to cover his legs modestly. “Who are you?”

How had he not noticed how short he was? He towered over John. “My name is less important,” he said, crossing his arms. “I’m here to thank you.”

“Th… Thank me? For what?” John fisted his skirt, one hand adjusting his belt.

Lafayette tried not to grin at the cuteness of it. “You protected one of my women,” he said. “And earned scars for it. You have my gratitude, and the least I can do is heal you.”

“Are you… her husband?” John asked. “And… we already tried healing them. The elixirs won’t work, and my father is furious. I’m tainted.”

_ “Tainted.”  _ Lafayette huffed. “You humans, with all this - here, sit down - all this  _ tainting  _ and  _ modesty  _ and other worthless things. As though it means a lick of anything.” As John sat in the grass, Lafayette knelt beside him. He brushed John’s curls away from his face, then pressed his thumb over the scar above his brow. John stared up at him. “Your beauty is barely lesser. I know of many who would consider these honorable, not shameful. You defended a vulnerable woman and shed your blood to win. Where is the dishonor in such an act?”

Under his touch, the scar slowly leveled out, losing its jaggedness. The reddish color faded away and the skin became smooth again. He moved to the second scar, and when his hand pulled away, John was staring at him in shock. He pressed fingers against his face, running over the healed spots. Then he stood quickly, taking a step back. “You’re a god,” he said. “You’re - you’re - “

Lafayette smiled and stood. “A demigod, to be more - “

_ “You’re Lafayette!” _

“The one and only.”

John’s eyes were wide. “Oh, my gods. You’re - you’re actually in front of me. You just _healed_ me. Oh my gods, I - you-you're _a demigod!”_

Lafayette chuckled. “I am, yes.”

“You - oh.  _ Oh.  _ When I… she was a brothel worker. You’re their patron.” John swallowed. “Well… thank you.”

“You're an intriguing young man, John,” Lafayette said. He stepped closer and took John’s wrist in a gentle hold. “I've watched you since that night. You're intelligent, loyal, beautiful… it's clear you’re adored by everyone here.”

“... I was,” John muttered. Lafayette frowned as his eyes became glassy. “Scars or not - they’ve all seen me with them. I’ve lost half my suitors. Whatever blessing I had - surely it must be gone, for me to be marred this way.”

“Oh, darling boy,” Lafayette sighed. “Your people make assumptions of how blessings work. They do not simply fade away. You've had Eliza’s blessing for years, yes - but still it rests in you. It was her blessing that stopped that blade from cutting deeper, from threatening your life.” He reached his hand out and cupped John’s cheek with his palm. “Your suitors see you as a trophy - a pretty husband they will parade around and then hide away. Is that a life you want?”

“It isn't as though I have a choice in what life to have. A wife will be a prison guard. A husband, no matter how he sees me, will be enough.”

“Why take a husband when you can become a politician? Have you not been studying for it?”

“Politics have always been a last resort,” John whispered. He glanced towards the sunset. “If I couldn't get married, I would go into politics. My father would rather see me betrothed, and have me out of his hands.”

“What would you rather have?” Lafayette ran his thumb over his cheek, gazing down at him. “You honor your father’s wishes, and you will be at the mercy of whichever man can woo you the best with their money. I've seen this before, a thousand times, and you will not be happy. Would you subject yourself to that life, if only to please your father?”

John stepped back quickly, anxiously kneading at his skirt. “What - what does it even matter to you? You’re a  _ demigod.  _ I’m just some mortal. You’ve already shown gratitude - what need is there to fix my life?”

“Is my help unwanted?”

“... It’s not understood,” John said softly. He bit his lip.

“You are not some mortal to me.” Lafayette closed the distance between them again. “I find you extraordinary. Your beauty is godlike, but it is not all you have. Your intelligence and faith speak for itself.” He cupped John’s cheek again, his other hand settled on his waist. “Your devotion, your kindness... You deserve more than a rich, uncaring husband. You deserve a lover who will cherish and adore you, whether you are scarred or not.”

John huffed. “As if I could find someone of that quality! All I have for options are the rich sons of the military officials, and if I’m lucky, my husband will spend more time at war than at home. A terrible thing to wish, I know, but if - “

“Would you prefer the high heavens to an empty home?”

John stared at him. “... Of course. What are you referring to?”

“Do you know the story of Pillias and his mortal lover?”

John blinked before nodding. “That’s a bedtime story. Pillias changed Dyanus into a nature spirit, as to be with her, but it was a tragedy. What about it?”

“I do believe I could do better with you.” Lafayette murmured. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to John’s cheek.

John’s brows furrowed in confusion, then his eyes widened. “Wait. Wait… what are you saying…?”

“I’ve watched you for a long time, John. Your heart is pure and your blessing is well earned.” Lafayette took his hands, squeezing. “Hercules believes I fall too easily for virgin flowers, but with you in front of me - I must disagree. What being, mortal or deity, could resist a boy like you?”

John swallowed. “Are you… professing love to me? You're a  _ demigod.  _ I don't understand… How could I measure up to any other deity, male or female?”

“Why should there be a measurement at all? I find you breathtaking. Beautiful. Smart. Eventually, I will run out of adjectives to describe you. I long for your love and affection in return - your sweet presence in this boring eternity.”

“You're serious. You really… really… Gods, yes!” John exclaimed. He stepped closer. “I want nothing more than to know your embrace and company. To be your lover - I could not imagine better!”

Lafayette leaned down and caught his lips in a messy kiss before picking him up with ease. A few steps forward had John’s back hitting the tree and his legs wrapped around Lafayette’s waist. Their lips met in a deep kiss and John’s fingers dug into his hair, scrambling for a proper hold. When they pulled apart, they both were breathless.

“I will carve a place in the heavens for you,” Lafayette whispered, cupping John’s cheek in his hand. “I will take you away from this place and never again will you worry about your father or your suitors. You will dine with gods, my love.”

“Take me now,” John pleaded. “Let me leave this life and join you in yours!”

A voice called out across the meadow and both looked towards the villa, a servant standing in the back doorway. John let out a displeased whine, clenching his fists.

Lafayette smiled and pressed a kiss to John’s cheek. “Get your rest, my lamb,” he whispered in his ear. He set John on the ground again. “The sun has set and I must retrieve my arrow. Hercules does hate crafting new ones for me. I will work diligently on bringing you into my realm.”

“Wait!” John cried, reaching for him. “How will I know this is not some wondrous dream? A fantasy that is too good to be true?”

Lafayette gazed at him, then smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let me assure you, darling, that dream or not, this is quite real." He outstretched his arm to the side and the air around his hand shimmered, then there was a flash of golden light. In his palm appeared a stemless glass flower, colored with red and orange and yellow. Connected to it was a light golden chain. “... If you want proof, keep this on.” Taking hold of the chain, he lifted it over John’s head. The flower settled against his heart.

John stared down at it, eyes wide with awe. A warm golden light, so similar to its creator’s, was radiating off of the flower. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. He looked up. “... What do I say to the others? If they see it, they will ask questions.”

“Speak the truth. Let them know I have claimed you as mine.” Lafayette gave him another gentle kiss, then stepped back. “You only have to pray for me, my love, and I will come to your aid.”

His name was called again. John looked towards him - and when he turned back, Lafayette had vanished. Goosebumps rising on his arms, he picked up his book and turned, walking down the hill.

***

John hoped he might pass through his village the next day unnoticed, but his father, upon seeing his repaired visage the previous evening, practically shouted from the rooftops that his son was healed. “We have been blessed!” Henry had cried upon seeing his son. “Mark my words, boy, you’ll have any of the bucks of the village. You can be selective again, oh, and perhaps even a bidding war may ensue. Drive up the price of your dowry! Happy, happy news!” 

At his words, John turned away from him, folded his arms. “I am not marrying any of them!” He declared. As he spoke, his flower charm glowed like an ember, drawing his father’s attention.

“What is that? Where did you get that, boy?” he scoffed, glaring at the piece. 

“It’s a gift,” John said. “And it’s why I won’t marry. I’m already betrothed. Lafayette has claimed me, and I cannot be promised to a mortal.” 

The look on Henry’s face as he mulled over this new information was impassible. “I fear this may come off as sacrilege, but no. You belong here, in the waking world, with your family. And your future spouse.” And he reached for John’s necklace. As his fingertips brushed the glass of the flower, it scorched him, causing him to howl in pain and take a few steps back. 

“Father...I…” John looked down at his glowing necklace, back at Henry nursing his burnt hand. “I thought you would be happy! Proud! I have made a match with a demigod--”

“Protector of whores!” Henry hissed. 

“And the sun!” John interjected. “You will not speak of him  _ or _ his followers in such a way.”

Henry just shook his head, his eyes cold. “You will marry one of the many,  _ many _ suitors vying for your hand. You will earn a sizeable dowry and unite us with another upstanding family. It’s your duty.” 

Feeling the tears gather in his eyes, John rushed out the door, eager for some fresh air and space. He managed to make just past the center courtyards before he was cornered by a flock of his peers.

“So what our kitchen servant said was true!” One of them marveled. “His face is healed!” 

“Leave me alone,” John implored the lot of them, trying to make his way towards the meadow. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Listen, John,” said Francis, one of the young men who had ardently pursued him until the fight, then withdrew his proposal as soon as he saw the damage from the knife. He grabbed John’s wrist, keeping him from walking away. “I’ve made a huge mistake. Let’s say you and I take a walk by the river…”

John yanked his hand away, tried to hurry away, but Francis’s friends had flanked him, blocking his only exit. “Thank you, but no. I am meeting someone.”

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. I’m sure they’ll understand you had to spend some time with your future fiance.”

His mouth twisted into a grimace. The thought of Francis’s hands on him, living in the same house, sharing a bed… He felt ill. John caught his own frown, though, and forced a smile. “Francis, you’re too kind, but you decided ages ago we weren’t a good match. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting someone--”

Francis stepped in front of him, scowling. “Who is this someone?” He snapped briskly. “Tell me their name. I shall challenge them to a duel, for your honor and your hand!”

At that, John actually laughed, the very idea of this...this cocky village boy trying to challenge his Lafayette to a duel! 

“And what is so funny?” Francis’s eyes narrowed as John giggled. 

“My apologies. I should explain. Francis, I cannot accept your invitation, as I am now betrothed to Lafayette.”

A strange, shocked silence fell over the group. 

“Lafayette, demigod of the sun?” Francis scoffed. “Your scars may have healed, but you’re not that great of a beauty! Not to catch the eye of a demigod.”

John didn’t even respond to the insult, just lifted the chain of his necklace to reveal the glowing flower charm.

The lads eyed the treasure, some bewildered, others transfixed. As they stared, the glass oscillated from ruby red to bright tangerine, to gold. 

“A parlor trick,” Francis scoffed dismissively. “Smoke and mirrors. Hardly proof of a god’s desire.” 

At his cruel words, John felt the tears build in his eyes. His father rejected his betrothal, his friends did not believe… And now they were all laughing, calling his divine gift a cheap trick. 

“Now,” Francis said, ignoring his obvious distress. “What do you say about that walk?” 

John shook his head, but as he tried once more to walk away, Francis grabbed hold of the skirt of his tunic, yanked him closer. His voice turned dark. “You misunderstand. I'm no longer asking; as your future husband, I will be the head of our house and you will learn to submit and obey--”

“Get off!” John cried out, shoved Francis off of him and made to run off. Unfortunately, the man’s grip on his garment was strong, and it ripped, the shredded fabric now leaving him quite exposed. Even as he blushed and gasped in mortification, grasping at the scraps of cloth to remain covered, he caught Francis and several others eyeing his bare flesh lecherously, while the remainder of the onlookers howled with laughter. 

Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks and John shoved himself back against the wall, just barely covering his exposed skin. A sob caught in his throat and he barely got out his prayer.  _ Gods, Lafayette, please,  _ he begged.  _ Help me, help me, please, my lo- _

There were gasps from the boys, and John opened one eye - only to see darkness. The sky had turned dark, a shadow falling over all, and the wind picked up. He looked up to see that the center of the sun was black, blotted out by the moon. The flower charm began to pulsate and glow, and they all turned to stare at it. Another flash of light caught his eye and John stared down at his tunic. Golden light surrounded it, traveling down towards the hem, changing it. What was once simple white fabric became silken, white flowing into golds and reds, until it ended with patterns of the sun. Light and airy, it rested comfortably against his legs.

There was another flash of light and John looked up at Lafayette, who seemed more godly than ever. He scowled at the boys, gripping his bow in one hand while the other was a fist. “What in  _ hell  _ is going on here?” he demanded, power radiating from his voice. The boys flinched, stepping away, and silence fell. “Someone speak!”

“I-It was nothing, sir,” one boy said quickly. “We were just playing!”

“Yes,” Francis agreed. “It was all fun. We just got… a little carried away.”

_ “Explain  _ to me,” Lafayette growled, his voice low and thick, “how my betrothed ended up on the ground, crying, with his clothes torn and desperately praying to me? What kind of  _ fun  _ leads to this?”

The boys fell silent, their heads down.

“Pathetic,” Lafayette bit. They flinched. “All of you,  _ go.  _ Whoever is still in this courtyard after five seconds will have their teeth ripped out of their skull!”

They scattered like flies, sprinting for the exits. Lafayette watched them flee, then set his bow across his shoulders and turned to John. “Are you alright?” he murmured. He held his hand out to him, his voice gentle and kind.

John wiped his tears as he nodded, taking his hand. When he stood, the new garment covering him well, he sniffled. “... Th-thanks,” he whimpered. “I - I should have… I should have been able to handle that. I’m not strong.”

“No, my love.” Lafayette took hold of his waist and pulled him close. “Do not think that way. You are not weak, nor lesser, as they think you are.” He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I overestimated the rationale of humans. I did not realize that you would be treated this way.”

“My father was furious,” John whispered, and the tears began anew. “He wanted money from my dowry. I can’t - I can’t give him that. A match with a demigod is… not good enough.”

“Your father is a selfish man who does not deserve his precious son.” Lafayette kissed him again and held him close to his chest. “... Trust me, my lamb, I will take you away from this place. You will have a better life, as soon as I can give it to you.”

“I want it now,” John pleaded. “This place - it has become constricting, like a prison. I want to be in the heavens with you!”

“I know, lamb. I am trying to get this for you. But I have duties I cannot shirk, and to bring you to my realm… there are preparations that will take time.” Lafayette gazed down at him, smoothing hair behind his ear. “I swear, though, that I will speed things as best as I can.”

“My father will try to marry me off. Anything for the dowry.”

“Tell your father that any attempted civil union will not be blessed and will be doomed. I will see to it myself that it ends.” Lafayette held him close, then snapped his fingers.

There was a gust of wind, then instead of hard stone beneath his sandals, there was the slight curve of a dirt hill. John looked around to see that they were back in the meadow, beneath the tree, and the moon was moving away to let sunlight through. He giggled and leaned against Lafayette’s chest, tears forgotten. “That feels strange,” he said.

Lafayette smiled before kissing him. “You will adjust to it.” He took John’s hand and urged him to sit down, doing the same beside him. In one easy motion, he pulled John into his lap. “... The fault is not in you. If the humans of your town won't believe… that is not an issue for you to tackle. Let them refuse to believe, or call you on blasphemy. Their words may hurt, but know that I adore you and would not dream of letting you slip through my fingers.” He kissed him a second time, John leaning into it. “As I told you - your prayers will never be ignored.”

“How long will it take, your preparations?” John whispered. He wrapped his arms around Lafayette's neck. “A month?”

“Let us not bother with the numbers or dates. I will come for you when it is time.” Lafayette smiled and rubbed his back. “Patience, little one. As much patience as you can muster.”

“Not a lot,” John whined.

“Understandable.” Lafayette kissed him again, then a second time, this time longer. “... Humans never seem to have much.”

“How much do you really know about humans?” John smiled.

“Not as much as others, I’ll admit. There’s never quite… been a reason to bother.” Lafayette smoothed his hair back. “They pray for aid, I give it to them. To those who are devoted and loyal, I give them my blessing.”

“So why bother with me?” John whispered.

“A beautiful human with a good heart? I'd consider it a rarity these days.” Lafayette kissed his cheek. “I hate to see the way you're treated - like a prize to be won and controlled, put out as a trophy. What being could be blessed with a gorgeous son and only see them as a tool for getting money?”

“My father.” John swallowed, then looked up. “But.. how can I be sure that it won't be the same with  _ you?  _ That I won't be a trophy at your side - a human you conquered?”

“What do I get for taking you as my lover?” Lafayette smiled. “You will get the comforts and beauty of the heavens. You will never have to worry about your well being, and will feast with gods. All I get is the pleasure of your company - and, I would hope, your love. For all the indifference I often have towards humans - you are the exception.”

John clung tighter to him. “I love you,” he whimpered. “Not even a day and I know I love you!”

“I’m afraid true love needs more than a day,” Lafayette murmured. “... Speak of it to me in a cycle’s time, and we both will know your heart is true. We will spend all of eternity together.”

“Will you have my body, too?” John whispered. “Deflower me in the meadows of the heavens?”

“Only if you will it so.” Lafayette’s hands fell to his hips, holding him close. “To be the one who opens you - I would be honored.”

“It seems as though it's the only thing that has other boys interested,” John said, pouting. “They want to say they were my first. The one to spoil me.”

“Spoil.” Lafayette huffed. “At least that explains why half my prayers are followers asking why I would bother with whores! The assumption that any non-virgin is spoiled…”

“I've never understood it,” John said softly. “I want to be - I want to be my own person. I want  _ some  _ control. It's as though my father - he decides everything! What I study, who my friends are… The only choice I have is  _ who  _ I marry. Not when, or where, or whether I marry at all…” He looked up. “It's wonderful, being a demigod, isn't it? Getting prayers, living in the heavens, only having to keep the sun up…”

Lafayette smiled and kissed him. “Wonderful to a human, perhaps, but it becomes boring. It's the same thing, same needs, same crises needing your attention…”

“But you get to live eternal. You get to make things from nothing.” John gestured to his necklace and garment. “... They’re  _ beautiful.” _

“I'm glad you think so, my love,” Lafayette murmured. He took John’s hands, squeezing them. “... I would clothe you in a thousand fine tunics, the best quality in existence. Whatever you wish for is yours.”

“You,” John whispered. “I wish for you - I wish that I could be yours already!”

“You have my promise,” Lafayette drawled, “that you will be with me above. I will be yours, as you will be mine. Together, forever.”

“Forever?” John whispered.

“Exactly.” Lafayette smiled and kissed John. The kiss lasted, then they broke apart - a second kiss followed. Then a third and fourth, their lips moving together smoothly until John was squirming. Lafayette smiled. “Quick learner,” he murmured.

“Good teacher,” John whimpered. He adjusted himself, cheeks hot as his body stirred. “.. U-Um, I…”

“Aroused, sweetheart?” Lafayette smirked. “Kissing can do that.”

“Touch me,” John pleaded. “P-Please, Lafayette…”

Lafayette pulled him against his chest and kissed him again, one hand slipping beneath the skirt. He wrapped his fingers around John’s cock and rubbed slowly, drawing a breathy moan from John. “F-Fuck,” John gasped.

“Language,” Lafayette said sternly, before catching John’s lips with his own. He continued to stroke his full length, base to tip, dragging his fingernails lightly - John whimpered and squirmed, pushing his hips up. When they parted, John gasped for breath and squirmed.

“More,” he pleaded. “Please - please…”

“Tell me what you want, darling,” Lafayette drawled. He leaned forward and onto his knees, pushing John to lay on his back. He pushed the cloth up, exposing his thighs. “Anything you want.”

John stared up at him. “Keep touching me,” he whispered. “Keep - keep…  _ take me.  _ Here, now.”

Lafayette’s hand kept moving, a smirk playing on his lips. “Not here,” he murmured. “Or now, my flower. I want a better scene for when I make you mine.”

“What scene?” John whimpered. He jerked his hips up and moaned, then curled his toes as pressure built in his belly. “F-Fu - oh, gods…”

“A bed.” Lafayette pressed kisses to his neck. “... Big. Spacious. The softest mattress, with the best sheets, and most comfortable pillows you’ll ever find in this land or another. I’ll have you in silk - whatever you desire. Gold and ruby jewelry, all to take off slowly.” His hand kept pumping. “I’ll take my time - rub you like this, kiss you, touch you everywhere but where you want it. When you’re desperate and can't take it any longer, I’ll spread you and open you. My fingers first, until you beg for more.”

John whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’ll kiss you more. I’ll make sure you're prepared and comfortable before pushing inside of you, kissing you, loving you. When you’re ready, I’ll make love to you.” A finger dropped to push against John’s hole, teasing. John gasped, pushing into it. “And I’ll have you crying into the pillows. Not from pain, or fear, but from pleasure… Come for me, darling.”

John couldn’t hold in his cry as he came, his cum painting Lafayette’s wrist white. He curled his toes and covered his eyes with his hands, catching his breath. “Oh, gods,” he whimpered. “Oh gods, oh gods…”

“Shh, sweetheart.” Lafayette wiped his hand off in the grass, then sat back and pulled John up with him. John buried his face in Lafayette’s neck and took a deep breath, struggling to recover. “Was that alright?”

“S-So good,” John whispered.

Lafayette smiled and nuzzled his curls, brushing them back from his face. “Good boy,” he murmured. John made a pleased sound at the praise and clung tighter. “Have you done that before?”

John swallowed, hesitating before he nodded. “More than once,” he whispered.

Lafayette grinned and kissed his cheek. “Do tell.”

John bit his lip, cheeks turning pink. “Um… Well, when I was younger. Uh, you know. Figuring out what felt good. I had to hide it all from my father - he’s always been against that sort of thing. ‘It’s for procreation’, and all that. I don’t think he wanted me to ever… get curious enough, to do anything with someone else.”

“Keep you as his perfect virgin son,” Lafayette murmured.

John nodded. “Keep rumors out of the picture,” he said. “Anything that can lose me a suitor is bad. Anything that negatively changes the public image I have is bad. When that knife cut me…” He swallowed. Tears welled up in his eyes. “When I got home, he only looked at me once. He told our servants to clean me up the best they could and send me to bed. It took two days for him to speak to me, three days to look at me. Everything was… different. So when you healed me - it was all about the suitors I could get back and how the dowry could be worth more.”

Lafayette scowled at his words. “A damn fo-”

_ “Master John!” _

They both looked towards the villa, a servant standing at the edge of the patio.

_ “Master John, your father wants you!” _

John sighed. He leaned against Lafayette’s chest. “I don’t want to go,” he whispered. “I don’t want to deal with my father. I want to keep kissing you. I want you to touch me again.”

Lafayette smiled and kissed him, slow and deep, before pulling away. “You only need to pray, my love. If it is possible, I will come - no matter how small the issue.”

John hesitated. When his name was called again, more urgent, he pulled himself from Lafayette’s lap and stood. “Tonight,” he said. “I’ll pray tonight, in my chamber, and you can give me a bit of sanity from the house I live in.”

“As you wish,” Lafayette said. He stood and pulled John into another kiss. This one lasted, Lafayette’s lips warm against his own, before they finally pulled apart. John bit his lip, then turned and walked down the hill. The air felt a little colder without Lafayette at his side.

The servant, a young girl, was standing on the porch with a nervous expression on her face. She wrung a rag between her hands as John walked up. “Your father wants to see you in his office immediately, master,” she said. “He seems awfully upset about something you’ve done.”

John frowned. “Alright,” he said, glancing towards the back doors. Adjusting his belt, he walked towards them.

“Um, master - master John? If I may?”

John glanced back at her.

“Well, uh… wh-who was that with you, in the field? You seemed… awfully, um, close.”

“It was my betrothed,” John muttered. He turned back to the doors, pushing one open. “Lafayette.”

He didn’t stay for the servant’s gasp. The door opened to a spacious room with high ceilings - in here, it was cool. He walked down a hallway, past two servants, and past the winding grand staircase. He headed for the office, sequestered away from the rest of the house for silence. He stopped at the door, then took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”


	2. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is powerless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags. This is where the non-con/sexual assault comes into play.

Henry stood behind his desk, a formidable figure behind the wood and glass. He had some papers in front of him, bearing wax seals. From where he was, John could not make out the crests on them in the candlelight.

“Good evening, father,” John said stiffly. He felt the glass charm against his skin, glowing, warming him.

Waving off John’s greeting, Henry sat, motioned for John to join him. The wooden chair was uncomfortable under him. He sat straight, leveled his gaze at his father.

“Several... _generous_ proposals came in this afternoon,” Henry said slowly. Motioned at the papers on the desk. “I am thinking that your debut isn’t even needed? That perhaps we can skip such formalities, let the offers continue. Your job, of course, will to be to continue to appeal to the highest bidders. It will be challenging, to balance igniting their interest without coming off as too…eager. Perhaps your sister--”

“I have already told you,” John said slowly. “I am betrothed. I am not taking a husband from the village.”

Henry ignored him, continued to prattle. “--And with any luck, their cockiness will lead to an actual bidding war! You could have the highest dowry in the history of our family!”

“Father...please listen to me... Lafayette has _claimed_ me, decreed any human marriage would be doomed.”

Henry looked up from his papers so fast, the breeze from his tunic fluttered the candles’ flames. “No, son. You listen to me. I do not know what lies and fairy tales that...demigod has been filling your head with. But you have a duty to your village, your family, your future husband. A duty to yourself. I’m willing to overlook your behavior in the town square today since Francis didn’t allow it to sway him from his proposal. But if you can’t keep your head about you, if you continue to carry on--”

“Wanting to make my own match is ‘carrying on’?” John cried, incredulous. “Father, Lafayette, he _loves_ me, and I want that over any dowry or status that _they_ can give me.”

Instead of growing angry or shouting, Henry just laughed. “He loves you? The patron of the whores, in love with you? He’s a demigod, John. In the business of collecting pretty things. Now, I will hear nothing else of it. You will have dinner with Charles tomorrow evening, dine with Francis’s family the following day. For the day after, I am still deciding between--”

“And if I refuse?” John snapped. “I have no desire to spend a second of time with such boorish, disrespectful…”

“You do not have a choice.” Henry glared, rose from his chair, snatched John by the forearm. “Your behavior is appalling. You bring dishonor on this family. Perhaps being confined to your bedchambers, alone, will give you some time to sort this out before supper tomorrow evening.” As he spoke, he dragged John down the hallway, who protested, tears in his eyes.

“Please, father, understand. Lafayette and I--”

“Do not speak his name. Not in my house,” Henry hissed, yanked open to the door to John’s bedroom. “Your meals will be sent in. Be ready for supper by sunset, tomorrow.” And with that, Henry shoved John into his room, slammed the door shut. The metallic click of the lock, and Henry’s footsteps thudding down the hallway.

In a frantic heap, John collapsed onto his bed. A broken sob tore from his throat and he curled in on himself, misery settling in his gut like a heavy stone. How could he be so unfortunate as to have such a cruel man for a father? How could the blessings of appearance turn into a curse so quickly?

His tears flowed down his cheeks as he cried, and he cried until his tears dried and no more would come. His pillow was stained with his misery and he looked around to see that his room had grown dark, the sun nearly set over the horizon. He sniffled and sat up, his head aching, as he wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Lafayette,” he whispered, and after his father’s harsh words, it felt like a dirty name to speak. “Lafayette, my love, I n-need you…”

Seconds passed. Nothing happened. John let out a whimper and stared at the patterns of his flowing dress. “Lafayette, please,” he begged. “Please, come to me, please…”

More silence followed. The lump in his throat hardened anew and he let out a dry sob, collapsing onto his pillows. He slammed his fist into them, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe in.

A hand settled on his shoulder.

He looked up to see Lafayette and sucked in a breath before throwing himself into his arms, shaking. “I’m sorry,” Lafayette whispered in his ear. “I was held up. I’m here.”

“He wants m-me to get… m-married,” John gasped, struggling to speak properly. “He can’t, he can’t…”

Lafayette held him tight, rubbing his back. “He can’t,” he agreed. “No marriage will work out.”

“How can you be… s-so _sure?”_

“I will not allow such a thing,” Lafayette said firmly. He brushed John’s curls back from his face, then wiped away his tears. “Trust me, dear boy, you will not suffer a loveless marriage or a careless husband. It will not survive to your wedding night.”

“I don’t want to even say vows!”

“John.” Lafayette gazed into his eyes. “I need you to trust me on this. It is merely a bump in the road which leads to you joining me in the heavens.”

“Why can’t it come sooner?” John demanded. “An actual answer!”

Lafayette frowned at him, then took his hands, squeezing them. “You were born a human mortal, and came into this world as a crying infant with a mother and father,” he said. He sat on the bed beside him. “I was created by Washington, brought into existence by a mixture of stardust, sunshine, and magic. You were born into a world to which you belong. I was created in a world where I belong.”

John stared at him, sniffing.

Lafayette kissed the back of his hand. “The heavens are not habitable for humans, only gods, demigods, and angels. It does not have the proper conditions for your survival. For you to exist, there must be certain… rituals. And for demigods such as myself, there are conduct regulations. Carrying out those rituals will be going against those regulations.”

“You’re not allowed to take me with you?” John whispered.

“I am not authorized by my father,” he said quickly. “But it is not impossible. I have to keep things secret, and that means my duties come first. The social business of the gods comes first. I must monitor my arrow and answer those who pray for me, give aid to those who need it, and only after that is done can I ensure your safe transition.”

John whimpered. “What do you have to do… f-for me to join you? What do I have to do?”

Lafayette hesitated. He cupped John’s cheek in his hand and kissed him, slow and deep. “You cannot enter as a mortal,” he said. “You will have to… be changed.”

“Be changed how?”

He sighed. “You will have to die,” he said.

A chill ran down John’s spine. He stared at Lafayette and slowly pulled away, his stomach twisting. “I have to… You’ll _kill_ me?”

Lafayette reached for his hand. “Don’t let it scare you,” he said softly. “The only mortals ever known to enter the heavens were souls plucked from the Underworld by the gods. You will die, yes, but with the right preparations, I will be able to pull you from the sea of souls and your new physical form will be manifested in the heavens.”

John swallowed and stared at the floor, even as Lafayette pulled him into a hug. “It’ll work?” he whispered. “You’ll be able to…”

“I have not done it myself, but I know others who have,” Lafayette said. “Others who would keep their mouths shut if I began asking particularly concerning questions.”

John nodded slowly, then let his cheek rest on Lafayette’s shoulder. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I trust you.”

Lafayette smiled, then gently turned him into a kiss. Their lips moved together, kissing a second and third time before Lafayette gently laid him down amongst the pillows. “Your father will see that the strongest of wills cannot force a marriage upon you. The people of this town will see that you are claimed and not to be touched.”

“Father speaks blasphemy against you,” John said quietly as Lafayette laid beside him. “He has never had respect for demigods. He calls you the patron of whores.”

“I suppose that’s what I am,” Lafayette said, a slight smile gracing his lips. “... I’ve never understood how a political man like Henry Laurens can speak against sex workers, and yet political men are also the first to line up for their services.”

John became quiet, then snuggled against Lafayette’s chest. “He’s terrible,” he said quietly. “Always has been. I presume yours is of much better quality.”

“Washington?” Lafayette held him close, gazing up at the ceiling. “I am afraid he is not much better.”

John frowned. “How so?”

“He is… distant.” Lafayette sighed. “I was once his favorite. The adored son, even more so than Alexander. However… his attention has been divided and most of us are ignored lately.”

“Sounds better than my father,” John muttered. He looked up at Lafayette. “Is something happening?”

“Nothing that has been brought to my attention.” Lafayette smiled, then kissed him. “Saying it aloud, I suppose my comparison is rather inaccurate. An inattentive father cannot be worse than a manipulative, greedy one.”

“I’m not sure I should agree,” John said with a slight smile.

Lafayette chuckled and ran his fingers through John’s hair, watching the dying sunlight reflect off the curls. “Smart boy.” He kissed him gently. “Though I give you permission to agree or disagree with me, no consequences attached.”

“Good to know,” John said softly. He accepted another kiss, then let his tired eyes flutter shut, burying his face in Lafayette’s shoulder. He snuggled close, then smiled as his hair was stroked. “... You’ll protect me from them.”

“Of course, darling,” Lafayette murmured by his ear. “... Sleep well.”

John drifted off to sleep in his lover’s arms.

***

The next day was one of the worst in John’s memory. He woke, alone and cold, a chilling contrast to the warmth of Lafayette’s presence from the previous night. Had it not been for the rumpled dip in the bedding where Lafayette had sat, John may have convinced himself it was just a dream.

Waking, he went to open his door and it was still locked. A few hours after sunrise, one of their servants brought him breakfast, opening the door, sliding in a tray, and slamming the door shut and locked so quickly John didn’t even have time to react. The tray held coffee, some sweet cakes, and a bowl of fruit. Though his stomach clenched with hunger, he refused to touch the breakfast; any semblance of mercy from his father was not welcome.

When he went to his desk, to find his sketchbook or his diary to write in, he found the drawers empty. Some servant, no doubt on his father’s orders, had liberated the room of his belongings, leaving only his bed and clothing. Seeing his personal effects just gone made his heart fall, replaced by boiling rage. _His father had planned his confinement._

John spent the rest of the day on his bed, stewing in his anger. Missing Lafayette with every cell in his body. Drifting in and out of dreamless sleep. Watching the sunlight change color as it streamed through the window.

With the light golden red, a servant, along with his father, entered the room. She carried a basin of water. Would not meet his eyes as she bathed him. The outfit his father picked out for him: white and blue; virginal. Said nothing as he dressed. Kept Lafayette’s promises close to his heart. This was nothing, this was a pantomime. He would not give Henry the satisfaction of raging against his commands. He would endure it. Silently.

The servant pulled the comb through his hair, piled his curls on top of his head. Tucked a peony, fresh from the garden, behind his ear. Smeared something on his face; spritzed him with rose water. Silver bangles. When they were satisfied with his appearance, Henry took him by the arm, steered him to their chariot. John caught sight of his reflection in the hall mirror. Taken aback by his own beauty; ashamed and frustrated that it would be wasted on _Charles_.

The ride across town was silent until Henry broke it. “Do not embarrass me, son,” he said. Dangerous and low. “Do one thing out of line, and there will be consequences.”

Biting his tongue, John glared. What could be a worse punishment than forcing him to marry?

“Charles has offered a handsome sum simply for your virginity, no marriage required. And has assured me of his silence regarding the matter. I daresay your so-called _suitor_ would no longer have a need for you. And I will still have you married off, after.”

John blanched but said nothing. Were his father’s words true? Would Lafayette discard him if such an unholy coupling were to happen?

No, he decided. He could not take that risk. He was saving himself for his true fiance. So, at dinner, he could sit quietly. He could be pretty. He would neither encourage or discourage this man. Any union would be doomed. _Lafayette promised_.

Charles and his family lived in a well-appointed villa. Their drive was lined with lanterns and shrubs, with a servant to greet them at the door. Led to a parlor, where Henry and Charles’ father sipped whiskey. Charles sat next to John on the couch, too close, their fathers’ eyes on them despite their heated political discussion. Charles tried to draw John into a discussion, but he only gave him one-word answers. This man may have access to his company, to look at him and be close, but he would not have a glimpse into his heart. Never.

At the dinner table, he wasn’t as lucky. Henry’s eyes were a threat across the wooden expanse as Charles and his father peppered him with questions. His favorite book, his skills at running a household (a duty for when Charles, planning to take an officer’s position in the military, was away), what music he preferred, where they would honeymoon. John felt the bile rise in his throat, could see the suffocating, loveless future unfolding in front of him like a children’s pop-up book.

The only things keeping him sane, as he dug his fingernails into his palm under the tables, were the warm glow of his necklace under his clothing and the memory of Lafayette holding him. With that memory, he could weather any storm.

***

The next day passed much as the second. Waking in a cloud of loneliness, grasping at dreams. Untouched breakfast. Hours of boredom, staring at the walls. He considered praying to summon Lafayette but decided bothering him would just delay his preparations. He was not a child, could handle being alone for a few days. Like the evening before, the servant girl to dress him, his father to oversee.

Dinner with Francis, his brothers, and their fathers was just as strained as it was with Charles. At least Charles had been modest with his treatment of John, modest and chaste. Kept a respectful distance, asked only proper questions. Francis, however, was unabashed in his desires. Stared at John openly from across the table, naked lust all over his face. The awful memory of Francis’s eyes on him from just days before when his nudity had been on display--he could practically see the memory playing out in Francis’s mind. It made his skin crawl. And the questions he asked, his voice as he asked… Dripping with innuendo, making John blush and stammer. He willed his father to step in, say something to reclaim his honor, but it appeared Henry was satisfied to watch him squirm.

The older men had their drinks after dinner; Francis offered to show John their extensive collection of paintings in the library. Henry nodded his approval, so John had no choice but to follow. Visibly recoiled when Francis took his hand firmly.

“Alone at last,” Francis mused, shutting the door behind him. He smirked at John. “You look exceptionally lovely tonight. Beautiful enough to be on the arm of someone with my standing.”

“Thank you,” John murmured, trying to look around the room at the art. But then Francis was stepping in front of him, backing him against the wall.

“I could not keep my eyes off of you...dinner took far too long...I have been waiting hours to do this--” And before John could react, Francis leaned in and pressed his lips to John’s mouth, his hands pinning John’s shoulder to the wall. John choked, struggled against the kiss, against his hands and his mouth.

The kiss, if it could be called that, went on for what felt like hours. When Francis finally broke away, John could breathe, felt his face redden. “How _dare_ you!” John spat. “You know I am promised to _Lafayette_ , and yet you continue to take liberties--”

Francis mimed looking around. “Is that so? Then where is he?” He tucked a curl behind John’s ear, eyed him hungrily. “You are promised to me, our fathers are negotiating your dowry right this minute. We will be married before winter.” With that he held John even tighter, nuzzled his neck, pressed him to the brick of the wall. John froze. He kissed John’s shoulder, one hand wandering to his hip. Francis’s body, crowding him. John still frozen, his very thoughts at a screeching halt, unable to even tamp down his panic enough to muster up the prayer, a cry for help--

“Gods,” Francis sighed. Moved his body against John’s. “You even smell pretty.”

“No, don’t…” John whimpered, tried to twist away.

Francis’s hand came across his face in a stinging slap, shocking him. “You will not refuse your fiance,” he ordered. The hand that slapped him, digging up his skirt, feeling and fumbling, and John was going to be sick, this wasn’t happening…

Lifting up his skirt, muttering to himself, “as good as I remember,” he whispered, and John’s stomach dropped. “You like that, baby?”

John squeezed his eyes shut, tried to drift away, not feel. His flesh was loyal to Lafayette, refused to even stir under Francis’s hand. At least he would not give him this.

Francis’s lips at he his ear. “Making me work for it, huh? I like that...such a pretty, pure thing.” And his _hand_ was on his _bare_ skin, was _wrapped_ around his cock, and John almost bit his tongue in half, the scream fighting to leave his lungs but caught somehow, truly afraid this man could...and would...hurt him…

The door opened.

“Francis? John’s father is looking for him, wants to--oh.” One of Francis’s brothers, standing in the doorway. Francis scrambled off of John, his hands blessedly gone. His brother smiled knowingly. “Save some for the wedding night, you two.”

Francis smiled back, laughed. “Of course, brother. So hard when you’re in love, to keep your hands off of each other!” And they shared a laugh. John trembled as he followed them out of the library. His brain screamed at him to get home so he could scrub the memory of Francis’s hands off of his flesh.

\------

John stared out the window, gazing at the meadow as the sun rose over the horizon. Lafayette’s arrow, bringing the day, the symbol of his lover’s presence in the world. He sighed.

Would Lafayette want to touch him, after Francis had?

Three baths since last night and the sensation still clung to his skin, holding fast against salts and lotions and the finest soaps available. His hair ran in silken ringlets down his back and he didn't react as the servant girl’s fingers ran through it, parting for a braid. He sighed heavily, quiet and forlorn.

“Is something wrong, master?” The girl asked, her voice soft and gentle. The girl from the patio.

John let out a breath. He held still as she began to braid. “My father has chosen a suitor and I have no choice anymore,” he said. He looked towards the tree where he'd met Lafayette and nearly whimpered. “... He says it will be done by the month’s end.”

“Does if not please you, master? Surely to be married is a joyous occasion.”

“It is a curse,” John snapped, harsher than he’d intended. “A life sentence to suffer for a crime.”

There was a moment of silence. “What sort of… crime?” she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.

“... I don't know.” His voice softened. “Being born, I suppose. Looking the way I do. Earning Eliza’s blessing, and now the adoration of Lafayette.” He sighed again before his voice hardened once more. “I pray he drops dead before he can touch me again. Despicable garbage…”

“Have you spoken to your father?” The girl asked quietly.

“He is the one enforcing this. He wishes to see me suffer for my godly match.” He grumbled, wincing when she tugged too hard. “A pathetic excuse for a father.”

The girl said nothing. When the braid finished, she walked to the closet and fetched his clothing, laying an outfit out on the bed. John looked over.

His fire dress, as he called it in his mind. Soft fabric that started a gentle yellow and blended into reds and oranges, with a flowing skirt. He stared at it, then at the girl.

She gave him a shy smile.

The late morning sunshine felt wondrous against his skin when he stepped outside, finally freed from the confines of his chamber as his skirt brushed against his legs. A gentle breeze blew past, ruffling the loose tendrils that pulled free from the braid. John, however, couldn’t bring himself to smile. All he could feel was Francis’ hands on him, grabbing him, those vicious eyes staring at him like a predator surveying prey-

“John!”

John jumped and turned to look at his friend, William, and two of their friends behind him. “Have you gone deaf? We were calling for you!” William said with a grin.

“Oh,” John muttered. “Sorry.”

“We wanted to know if it’s true,” said Joseph, stepping up. “... Is it?”

“Is what true?” John frowned at him.

“You’re marrying Francis! This week!” Paul hissed, crossing his arms. “Why the hell would you ever choose _him_ _?_ That loudmouth ass-”

“I didn’t choose him, my father did,” John huffed. Again, that feeling of hopelessness and despair threatened to settle in his belly. “I’d rather die than share a bed with that pompous jerk!”

All three fell quiet. “That’s not what he and his brothers are saying,” William said.

John stared at him. “What are they saying?”

“That you tried to seduce Francis last night,” Paul said. “That he had you alone and you were begging for it until his brother walked in.”

“Everyone was talking about it,” William added, looking solemn. “Calling you… things.”

John’s heart jumped into his throat as his stomach did somersaults. “That’s not what happened!” he exclaimed, hot with fury. “He trapped me - that son of a bitch!”

“What are you going to do?” Joseph asked softly.

While his friends watched him, John stared at the ground. He gripped the folds of his dress and took a shaky breath. What _could_ he do? What kind of reaction could he have that would not result in punishment? Whatever he did to Francis as retaliation would certainly come back to him, whether it be a rushed wedding or letting Francis have his virginity now. What demigod could want a spoiled boy like him? Lafayette would know. His father held all of the cards, after all, and he was a mere chip in the game.

“Nothing,” John said.

“What?” William stared at him. “You can’t be serious. He’s making you sound like a common street whore!”

“What’s wrong with street whores?” John demanded. At his chest, the amulet glowed and seemed to purr against his chest. “Why should I care what Francis says if I know it is not true? Let him have his rumors. He can take my reputation and my name but will never lay a finger on my pride nor my heart. A wedding band changes nothing.”

The boys stared at him in surprise. John huffed, then turned and stormed off. He had no destination in mind but his meadow, where he could certainly find some serenity. From home, he grabbed a book and walked towards the fields.

A lone figure stood on the hill and John smiled before walking faster until he was at a run. He dropped the book to the ground before hugging Lafayette, who laughed and held him close. “I missed you,” John gasped. “Two days and I missed you so much.”

“I know, love.” Lafayette stroked his curls and kissed him. John held him tight and buried his face in his chest, taking a deep breath of the scent that clung to him - like flowers and sunshine, he thought to himself. “You did not pray.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” John said quietly.

“Oh, my beloved boy, you could never be a bother.” Lafayette cupped his cheek, gazing at him with adoration. “I heard what you said to your friends.”

“... Oh.” John blushed. “You heard that?”

“I was checking up, to make sure you were safe.” Lafayette kissed his forehead. “I’ve made progress on my task. It will not be another month before you join me. However, I’m afraid you will have to endure your wedding.”

John let out a whine. “Promise me again that it will fail,” he pleaded.

Lafayette looked at him, then brushed a stray curl away. “I am not permitted to explicitly interfere in mortal affairs,” he said. “My father did not take kindly to my showing in the courtyard. I have made plans with another demigod, but should they fail, I would not hesitate to strangle that boy myself before he can harm you.”

John’s throat seemed to close up. Once again, he imagined Francis’ hands on him, the way he had frozen up with fear, too afraid to even think of a prayer. His stomach churned and he looked up at Lafayette. _He’s already hurt me,_ he thought to himself. _And you would have stopped him if I were not such a coward._

He said nothing, though. He smiled and kissed Lafayette again, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. He imagined Lafayette’s hand instead, touching him, loving him, adoration in every contact. “Touch me again?” he whispered, aching to replace the memory.

Lafayette smiled before gently pushing him against the tree - always, always gentle. Their lips met as Lafayette grasped him, rubbing, John feeling sparks fly upon contact.

It took little time for John to cry out his release.

\------

The next week and a half flew by, and before John knew it, he was sitting in his bedroom on the eve of his wedding. The door, stubbornly locked. After one of the servants had spied him in the meadows with Lafayette and ratted him out to Father, he was confined to his bedroom once again. At least they allowed him books for now.

What Father didn’t know was a locked door could keep him in, but it couldn’t keep his beloved out. Nightly, now, Lafayette visited him. After retrieving his arrow, he’d materialize in the dark bedroom, skin glistening in the starlight. They had to be quiet, could only risk whispered conversations. Lafayette offered words of comfort, assured him the wedding would not be consummated. They kissed for hours, spoke of everything and nothing. John begged Lafayette to take him, claim him; swore it would give him the strength to face his groom.

Lafayette finally explained that he could not, in good conscience, do such a thing; that John's emotional aura was far too fragile, full of desperation, and he could not take advantage of him. In fact, in all the nights they spent together, Lafayette ignored his own physical needs, focused on John’s pleasure wholly. John came apart under his lover’s hand and mouth, found solace in Lafayette’s generosity and attention.  

Now, the sun was setting, and John was awaiting his lover’s arrival. Their final night together before he was to be wed. Married off. Traded, like livestock. He wished ardently that Mother was still alive, knowing she might have been able to talk some sense into Henry. That such hasty arrangements would have never been made under her careful eye. Instead, less than a fortnight from supper at Francis’s house and they were getting married.

Tomorrow.

When the night finally fell, heavy like a blanket, John sat on his made bed, watched. Lafayette came to him when the house fell quiet, stepping out of thin air. “My love!” John whispered, rushed into his arms and just went weak. Let himself feel helpless and small and protected in Lafayette’s strong, capable arms. John was _scared_ and worried and confused, but most of all he wanted Lafayette. Wanted this night to never end, wanted to never leave Lafayette’s side again. Wanted to be brought home, to the heavens, right this second. Leave this place and never look back.

“What in the world has gotten into you, sweetheart?” Lafayette asked as John attempted to climb him, was clinging to him with every ounce of his strength. Kissed every bare patch of skin he could reach-- Laf’s face, shoulder, neck, hand.

“Want you,” John breathed between kisses. Pulled at Lafayette’s garments, pressed their bodies together. “Want all of you, oh Lafayette, I know we cannot make love, not yet. But please, let me give you something. I _must_ show you my devotion, somehow.” He continued to fumble with the flowing robes of copper Lafayette wore, the rosy gold folds of silk catching in the moonlight.

Lafayette laid his hand over John’s, stilled his actions. His dark eyes found John’s gaze, and he looked concerned. “My dearest,” he said. Took both of John’s hands in his own. “As much as my...body...desires such a thing, I can feel your fear… I know you are worried about tomorrow, and while you are in such a state, could never...take advantage of you in such a way.”

John growled in frustration, his usually sweet face pouting. “I can be good for you, so good for you. Please…. My hand, my mouth, I can pleasure you, let me do this--”

“Shh,” Lafayette hushed him.

“I need for you to have something from me!” John whined. “Something to...insure your return. Seal your promises. Something...something to remember me by...in case…”

“You speak as if this is a farewell,” Lafayette said gently. Brushed some of the curls from John’s face, kissed him softly. “You must put your faith in me.”

“But what if…” John made a face. “Tomorrow night…”

The arms around him tightened, and Lafayette kissed the top of his head. “I assure you, my dear one… That mortal will not lay a hand on you. If he does, I will kill him with my own hands.”

“But...but…” John felt the tears in his eyes, clung to the front of Lafayette’s robes, could feel the tremble in his own limbs, his lips. “If he takes...advantage of me...and I can no longer claim my purity, will you still want me?” His voice shook with the unshed tears.

For a few long moments, Lafayette said nothing, and John’s heart thudded in his chest, terrified he’d said the wrong the thing, he shed light on the path they hadn’t considered, had cursed their futures, and himself.

Still silent, Lafayette maneuvered John to the bed. Sat them down on the soft ticking and sheets, folded John into his arms. When he finally spoke, he chose his words carefully, spoke quietly, with much weight to each word. “John. My love. My rage at the thought of that man...of any man... _violating_ you has nothing to do with your virginity. To speak this way is to imply you are an object, and your worth is in bedding you. I would kill him not for taking something I wish to possess, but for hurting someone I care about so dearly. Your pain, it is my pain, and I would destroy him where he stood for causing any of it.” Lafayette looked into his eyes, brought John’s hands to his lips, kissed his palms.

The tears fell then. The contrast of Lafayette to everyone else in his life was astounding. Lafayette loved him... _loved him_ … Did not see him as an object of desire like his suitors, a prize to be won like Francis, a means to an end like his Father. Not since his mother died had John known unselfish love. To have it in such abundance, on the eve of a loveless union, was _overwhelming_.

“I love you,” John babbled, tried again to climb onto Lafayette. Wanted to be as close as possible, would crawl into him if he could, make a home in his heart and stay there until the world ended around them. “I love _you_! How can I stand in front of everyone I know, proclaim devotion to that monster?”  

Lafayette sighed, touched the pendant swinging at John’s throat. John watched, transfixed, as the metal chain and glass charm changed, morphed, melted. Like a skilled potter, or perhaps a candy maker, Lafayette manipulated the molten vapors, and then around John’s wrist, a plain silver bangle. “More discreet,” Lafayette explained. “They will not notice it among your other wedding accessories.” John touched his fingers to the bangle, found the silver warm. Alive. “Now, I am with you, at all times.”

Emotion swelled in John’s heart, and he was overcome, once again. Sobbed openly, let his cries be muffled by the fabric of Lafayette’s robes.

“One more day, my love,” Lafayette promised. “You just have to get through one more day like this, and then I promise. We will be together. For eternity.” And through John’s tears, Lafayette was kissing him again. Laid him out and kissed him for hours, John cradled in the pillows. Held him close, their lips barely breaking apart except for air. Kissing until John finally succumbed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> My tumblr - coffee-quill  
> Kacie's tumblr - likearootlesstree


	3. Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, kid? Kid, look at me.” Alexander stepped up to him and set his hands on John’s shoulders. Waves of serenity flowed through him but did little to truly calm him. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're halfway through!

His wedding day dawned warm and gra y. Storm clouds gathered in the distance, blotting out the sun’s rays. The servant girl arrived early, tried to get him to eat. John refused food, his stomach in knots. 

John bathed. The servant rubbed oils and creams into his skin, making him practically glow. He smelled like roses and jasmine. Lifted the gown he was to wear over his head, the folds of purple and black silk rustling around him like birds’ wings. Spying himself in the mirror, he swooned. Seeing himself dressed so starkly in Francis’s family colors made it more real. For the benefit of the servant, he bit back his tears. Found Lafayette’s bangle with his fingers, played with the warm, smooth metal. Tried to soak in some of the totem’s power. Whatever love Lafayette had to offer him, needed it close at this moment. Swore silently that when he joined Lafayette in the heavens, he’d only ever wear sun colors. 

“You look lovely, Master John!” The servant girl chirped, fanned out his hair. Began pinning up sections, adding flowers and jeweled charms. “Your groom will be so pleased!”

John kept his mouth shut, feared if he opened it every vile thought he had would come spilling out. 

For Lafayette, he had to be strong. Had to go through with this sham, this facade. Well, he decided at that moment, he would walk through it. Say the words, walk the aisle, light the candle. But he would not...could not...pretend to be happy about it. He would save his joy for when he was in his rightful lover’s arms again. Until then, he had to be stone.   

\-----

John took shaky breaths as he stepped into the temple. Beautifully decorated in devotion to Martha, lady of the gods and goddess of marriage and family, the temple had once made John feel safe and secure. As a little child, he would dream of standing before the altar with his loving husband, jumping with excitement to be married and begin a new life.

Instead, he stood in the doorway, hands trembling as he gripped his bouquet. Panic threatened to rush through his veins but he took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. The temple was full of townspeople - relatives and friends filling the front before neighbors filled the rest. It seemed all of Charleston was here to witness his worst nightmare.

A hand settled on his arm and he nearly jumped before looking at his father. “This is marriage, John, not a death sentence,” Henry said with a scowl. “Look  _ happy.” _

“It might as well be,” John hissed, pulling his arm away. “I will die before I consummate with him.”

“He will be your husband within the hour, and you  _ will  _ obey him. Unless you wish to live on the street as one of your precious demigod’s whores, spreading your legs in a brothel as your living!”

John’s jaw was tight but he fell quiet, taking a shaky breath. Henry took his arm again and waved his hand. He looked again, trying not to panic as the band began to play. As violins filled the air, he was pulled to walk.

The ceremony passed as a blur.

Hundreds of eyes were on them as they walked down to the altar where Francis stood, wearing a stiff military uniform in his family’s colors. He was handsome, though he didn’t hold a candle to Lafayette’s beauty. His gaze followed John, hungry and lustful, and when they reached him, he took John’s other arm in a tight grip. John’s stomach flipped as Henry’s hold vanished, leaving him in Francis’ grasp.

As the priest spoke, his words echoing throughout the chamber, John refused to meet Francis’ gaze. He stared down at his bracelet instead, feeling it pulse and send warmth and comfort through his body. A sense of security, no matter how minuscule.

“John?”

A harsh squeeze of his arm brought John back and he looked at Francis, who looked thoroughly irritated. “Vows,” he hissed. “Pay  _ attention.” _

John looked up at the priest, who frowned at Francis but only cleared his throat. “Do you, John, take Francis as your loving husband, to obey and serve with faith and honor until the end of your days?”

“I do,” John whispered, trying not to choke on his words. His chest ached and his hands trembled.

“By the power I hold, I offer your union to our Lady for her blessing,” the priest said. He gestured with his hand and two altar boys walked up, one holding matches while the other held a candle. It was a beautiful piece of art, tall and shaped like a budding flower with wax that peeled out in intricate shapes.

“As proof of your devotion to each other, you will both light this candle and keep it burning throughout the night. May the goddess Martha watch over you.”

Francis reached for the match and struck it ablaze. John’s hand shook as he reached up to take one, and tried to strike it; no fire. Another try and no fire; he tried a third and fourth, and finally it lit, a tiny flame that was barely alive. They both reached in and lit the wick of the candle, watching as it burned brightly.

John stared at the flame. He remembered his childhood, watching with bright eyes as his mother pulled her marriage candle from its glass case. He remembered the love in her eyes as she told him of the tradition, told him of how he would one day light his own candle with his husband or wife.

He wanted to throw it to the ground and stomp it to bits.

\------

Francis’s arms were like a vice around John’s waist, his breath ghosting past John’s neck as they rode the horse through the town. Behind them, their procession followed. While Francis steered, John cradled the candle in his lap. He wondered how easily the uniform would catch fire if he lifted the candle just a little higher. But he didn’t dare.

He had to trust Lafayette.

When they reached the Laurens villa, they stopped and Francis dismounted. John followed, reluctantly allowed Francis to take his hand, and walked with him around the house. Their guests followed.

The patio and adjacent meadow had been quickly decorated by the servants; flowers newly planted, patio scrubbed, tables and seating set out, a tent raised with flag lines hanging. Food was already being grilled and brought out. Henry had ordered an abundance of alcohol and a cake that John had yet to see. Clutching their candle, John followed Francis to the tent.

He stared up at the sky. It was dark, and servants were already lighting up the torch poles that surrounded the patio and tent. Stormy clouds loomed overhead, blocking out the setting sun. John took a deep breath.

At the back of the tent was a raised table with two throne-like chairs, facing a sea of tables set for dinner. As John and Francis sat, their guests filed in, finding places to sit in groups.

A servant came to fill their glasses with wine. “A shame, having to wait so long,” Francis sighed. He took a sip. “The formality of a wedding reception, stopping us from lovingly consummating this marriage.”

“Don’t speak of it,” John pleaded. He began to fidget with the bracelet, twisting it around his wrist. “Please.”

Francis looked at him with a smirk, then grabbed his wrist. “What else should a dutiful husband think of? It is all you are good for, after all - you cannot give me children.”

“But someone else will,” John snapped in a low voice. “The first girl you enslave during your military career, I presume.”

“Why should I not turn to another, if they can give me what I want?”

“Why not find yourself a pretty wife instead of me?”

“Why have a wife when I can have the most prized virgin in Charleston?”

“Don’t bother enslaving me as your husband if you only wanted a fuck,” John scowled. “There are plenty of sex workers with tight bodies who would warm your bed.”

“Why pay when it can be free? Why have anyone else waiting at home for me when I return from war?” Francis smirked, looking delighted at John’s frustration. “Come to think of it, I would prefer you to wear very little while at our new home. What you usually wear is far too bothersome than simply a short skirt. I’d prefer easy access.”

John’s face heated.  _ We will not make it so far,  _ he wanted to snap, but he took a long drink of wine instead, emptying the cup in one go.

Before long, the servants came by with food and more wine. John’s stomach had once growled but now he was in no mood to eat, staring at his plate instead. While Francis ate quick and messy, John pushed the food around, his mind wandering.

_ It will not last to consummation.  _ John drummed his fingers on the table. Choking on his food, perhaps? A heart attack? Tripping and falling during their dance, hitting his head in just the right way to be fatal?

John watched a servant boy fill Francis’ cup for the third time. “Please choke,” he muttered under his breath.

Francis licked his lips. If he heard John, he ignored it. “So where’s your precious demigod?” he drawled. He reached across, settling his hand on John’s thigh, his fingers digging in. “Not going to save you a second time? Perhaps he saw you as a little fling and nothing more. I’m the one who loves you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” John snapped. “You are an ant compared to him.”

“And yet I am the one who has lit the marriage candle.” John wanted to punch that cocky smirk off his face, but one glance to the side and he could see their fathers watching them. Francis’ hand traveled further up, much too close, and John grabbed it. “And, of course, I will be the one to open you.”

John scowled, pulling his hand off his leg. “You pathetic cowar-”

Francis grabbed his arm instead and pulled him into a rough, dominating kiss, his tongue finding its way into his mouth before John could react. When John pushed at his chest, he pulled back. “You are  _ mine _ now,” he hissed. “As soon as I have you in a bed, I will fully  _ own _ you. Will your little demigod still want his toy when you’ve bled for another man?”

“I would rather die-”

“I don’t care,” Francis snapped. “I don’t care what you would rather do or what you want. Shut up about it.” While John stared at him, he smirked. “But perhaps he would want you more after I have my way with you. After all, he is the patron of whores and sluts.”

John looked down at his food, his heart pounding in his chest, his face red with anger. He looked up at the sea of guests, blissfully unaware as they ate, not even their fathers paying attention to him now.

Then, something in his peripheral vision.

A boy, a servant, holding a tray of drinks. He made his way slowly through the crowd, offering drinks, but his eyes kept flickering back to John. He was impossibly handsome, with beautifully tanned skin and dark hair swept back into a ponytail. His bare arms were muscular and John couldn’t pull his eyes away.

“Lafayette?” he whispered. Surely this was his loving betrothed, disguised as a servant so as to kill Francis himself. Surely he would soon reveal his identity, pulling John into his arms before taking them both far away from this cursed town.

But this boy’s eyes told a different story.

No, this was not his Lafayette. His heart sank in his chest. 

Outside, it thundered, and rain began to pour.

\------

John’s stomach twisted as Francis pulled him into another dance. He was certain by now that his husband merely wanted an excuse to let his hands wander freely, pull their bodies together, throw a few more jabs at John before pulling them towards the table with their fathers so John could not risk a response.

He’d rather sit. His seat was safe, the high sides preventing most of Francis’s touching, giving him a feeling of security. Instead, he followed along as though he were collared, no choice but to obey. Since when did he have much choice in his life?

Before they could reach the dance floor, however, a man came up to Francis and began to speak, fast and eager. Francis looked irritated at the man’s presence, but let go of John’s wrist to walk away with him.

John let out a breath of relief. Finally, he was gone, even if just for the length of a conversation. He turned and tucked a few loose tendrils behind his ear, taking a deep breath.

“A drink for the newlywed?”

John looked up to see the servant, that impossibly handsome boy, standing beside him with only one drink left on his tray. “... I suppose,” he said quietly. He reached and took it, and the boy set the tray under his arm. Before he took a sip, he looked up. “Who are you?”

The boy smiled. “Someone of your station should not be concerned with someone of mine, sir.”

“I haven’t seen you before, but you wear servant’s gear with my family’s colors. Tell me your name.”

“I’m afraid my name is not for you to know.” The servant smirked - but it was not cocky or vicious like Francis. It was a knowing smirk, boyishly humorous, playful delight in knowing something John did not. “But I know yours, John Laurens. I know how you wish for your husband’s death.”

John stared at him. “What are you?” he whispered.

“Your savior,” the boy said, grinning. He winked.

In the time it took John to blink, he vanished.

John stared at the empty space, then around the room. As rain pounded on the roof of the tent, the boy was gone, not a trace left. No one seemed to have seen the occurrence and John stared down at the drink in his hand. Then his arm was grabbed and he looked up at Francis, his stomach jolting.

“What are you staring at?” Francis huffed. He pulled John towards the table. “Come on.”

“I thought you wanted to dance,” John grumbled, looking off at the twirling couples.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Francis said with a snap. He jerked John’s arm. “I’m sick of waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” John demanded, pulling back.

“To have you!”

John froze. He stumbled as Francis kept pulling him, panic rising in his chest. “Francis,  _ no -  _ let go of me! We haven't even done cake-!”

Francis turned on his heel, scowling at John. “Shut  _ up,”  _ he growled, gripping John’s wrist painfully tight. “I’m fucking  _ sick  _ of your whining. You are mine now,  _ not  _ Lafayette’s, and if I hear another word from you I will make  _ sure  _ you do not enjoy a single moment of our consummation. Understood?”

John stared at him, any thought of a reply dying in his throat. He nodded, tears filling his eyes. Francis huffed, then turned and pulled him towards the table. He followed without resistance, head down as they took their seats.

A few moments passed. Then, Francis stood and tapped his fork against his glass, and the tent fell silent as every pair of eyes turned on him.

“I want to thank you all again for celebrating with us,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “It has been a joy, but the night grows long and the alcohol thin.”

A few chuckled. Francis waved his hand, and suddenly the servant boy was in view again. John’s eyes widened as he stared - the same damn boy who had disappeared, refilling John’s cup with a large pitcher filled halfway. John swallowed, then reached for the glass as the boy moved on to Francis’s cup. He tried not to shake, wondering what the hell was going on.

“My love for the man beside me knows no bounds-”

Something glinted in the boy’s hand. John furrowed his brows, then blinked as the boy poured something in alongside the wine. As soon as he finished, the object disappeared into thin air and the boy scurried off.

“-and tomorrow begins the first day of our new life together. To end this magnificent night… I raise a toast to the future.”

“To the future,” the crowd echoed. Francis reached for his glass and lifted it. John bit his lip before following, feeling as though he were in a daze. Then silence.

He looked up as Francis gulped down the glass. He held his breath.  _ Please. Please. Please- _

Francis’ eyes widened. A hand flew to his throat, dropping his glass, shattering and spilling wine across the table. John jumped up and backed away, staring as Francis choked. Cries rose from the crowd and in seconds, Francis’ father was behind him, a hand on his back. “My son!” he cried.

John was shaking. He leaned on the table for support, watching as Francis slowly turned purple, his stomach churning. He clawed at his throat, gasping for air that would not come, then fell to his knees, arms hitting the table with a crash. John whimpered, wanting to be anywhere but here. Anywhere else, anywhere else…

Francis slipped off the table, onto the wooden dais. “No!” his father howled, bent over his body. A shocked hush fell over the tent. “No, no, no…”

Henry stepped onto the dais, looking disturbed and shocked before his eyes fell upon John. “You!” he hissed, voice full of hatred. “You wretched boy!”

“I didn’t…” John took another step back. His shaking was beyond control now, tears running down his cheeks. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t-”

“Shut it!” Henry’s voice boomed throughout the tent. Outside, the rain seemed to pour harder. “I am beyond patience with you, you mistake of a-” Instead of finishing, he looked over his shoulder, then pointed at the servant boy. “You there! Take him to his room and lock him there!”

“I didn’t do anything!” John wailed, but it seemed everyone had become deaf to him. The boy came to him, taking him by the elbow, leading him towards the exit. John let out a broken sob, blindly following past the tables.

“Murderer,” one woman whispered.

“A coward’s weapon,” whispered a man.

“Disgusting…”

“Poor Henry, cursed with such a…”

John struggled to hold in another sob. “No, no…”

The rain pounded against them until they reached the house when the servant pushed the door open and led him in. “Hey, shh,” he tried. “It’s alright. Promise. It’ll be alright.”

John didn’t respond, struggling to breathe in.

The servant led him up and into his bedroom. “You should change, get dry,” the boy urged. “I can start a hot bath.”

John again refused any response, slumping onto his bed. “They th-think I killed him,” he whimpered. “Oh, gods - they think I killed him, when, when - “ He stood abruptly. He looked at the boy, the same height as him, his hands twitching. “You put that poison in,” he said, his voice shaking as badly as he was. “You poisoned him.  _ You _ killed him.”

The boy said nothing, meeting his gaze.

“Who. The hell.  _ Are _ you?” John growled, making fists at his sides.

“Barely importan-”

John turned and grabbed a dagger out of his dresser drawer, holding it out in front of him. “It’s fucking important,” he hissed. “You just killed my husband. I want to know who you are.”

“Put the knife down,” the boy said, putting his hands up. “Did you not want him dead?”

“I didn’t want to be blamed for it!”

“Those instructions weren’t clear-”

“ _ Tell me!” _

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” The boy sighed. “...They call me Alexander.”

He held his arms out, and his form turned to bright, blinding light. John looked away. Then he reappeared - similar, though he wore elegant white garments. Styled similar to Lafayette’s, he wore a sleeveless white top, belted with a white skirt ending at mid-thigh. He wore arm bracers and laced up sandals, giving off a military aspect.

John’s eyes widened. “Oh, my - g-gods… you’re a demigod.”

Alexander smirked. “Behold.”

“You’re… you’re Laf’s brother.” John swallowed and dropped the dagger like it was hot. “And I just threatened…”

_ “Brother  _ doesn’t really describe-”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” John stepped back, covering his mouth with his hands, shaking. “Gods…”

“Hey, kid? Kid, look at me.” Alexander stepped up to him and set his hands on John’s shoulders. Waves of serenity flowed through him but did little to truly calm him. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Where’s Lafayette?” John whimpered. “I need him, need him…”

“Laf’s busy. Up at home. Washington always has the worst timing for father-son bonding time - whenever he bothers with it. He sent me in his place.” 

John hugged himself tightly, tears streaming down his face. “My father is going to hate me even more,” he whimpered. “They think I killed him, they all do…”

“I promise, John, things will be okay. They can’t touch you. Laf is doing everything he can. You just have to hold on for a little while longer, okay?” Alexander glanced out the windows, then sighed. “I have to go. Consequences to face, and all.”

“No!” John cried, grabbing Alexander’s hands. “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t take it anymore. Laf has to take me now!”

“It’s too dangerous-”

“I don’t care!”

“He won’t be able to pull you out. Your soul will burn away before entering our realm.” Alexander pulled his hands back. “I really have to go, John. Our parents aren’t exactly pleased with how much time Laf is spending down here, and Martha is going to be furious with me for breaking up your marriage without her approval.”

John said nothing, staring at the floor.

“Chin up, kid,” Alexander tried, with a slight smile. “They’ll be worshiping you soon enough.”

John took a deep breath. When he looked up, Alexander had vanished.  Tears streamed down his cheeks as he slumped onto his bed, his chest aching.

He supposed it was an improvement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr - coffee-quill  
> Kacie's tumblr - likearootlesstree


	4. Trials and Tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days stretched long in isolation.

The next few days were some of the worst in John’s life. When Henry arrived home with the sun rising after his wedding night, he stormed into John’s bedchambers, yanked him out of bed by his hair. 

“You stupid, worthless, horrible son!” Henry roared, threw him to the floor. “It’s a miracle I have talked the constable out of arresting you; I should let him, for that filthy, horrible trick you have pulled.” 

John cowered on the floor, his father’s rage almost unbearable. After his initial yelling, Henry continued in a low, dangerous voice. Every word dripping with loathing. 

“Father, I--”

“Not another word,” Henry continued. “The only reason you weren’t arrested was that you’d be worthless to me, rotting in prison. As of yet, I haven’t decided your fate. How you can even earn your keep. But until I decide, you’ll be here. In your room.”

John started to cry. Thought about the dark days leading up to his wedding; missed the sun kissing his face, the breeze in his hair. And with Lafayette preoccupied, no nighttime visits. 

“Please, Father, I can--”

“I said _shut up_ , boy! No one else in the village will have you, but perhaps I can find you a husband in one of the other towns. You best start praying, now, because if I can’t find you a husband, I’ll be selling you to the brothel.” 

At that, John gasped. “You wouldn’t!” John cried out, his voice high. “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Henry laughed, sounding delirious. “You can’t stay here! Now, I don’t want to assume you are still a virgin, from the rumors I heard, so Dr. Green will be in tomorrow to check; if there’s still that, perhaps I can fetch a moderate dowry.” 

Henry left him to his tears, a heap on the floor. John prayed to every god, goddess, and demigod he could think of, their names spilling out of his mouth as the tears continued to fall. 

“Please, please, please,” John prayed, his heart and mind crying out in unison.  _Please let him come for me._

***

How much can one’s life change in a moment? From the second that poison touched Francis’s lips, John’s life went from one of prized village son to social pariah. At first, he tried to look on the bright side, that he was not Francis’s husband, that he didn’t have to join him in the marriage bed, that his first time wasn’t a brutal rape. But after three days of being locked away, his four walls his only company, he started to feel desperate and a little unhinged. 

No one spoke to him. Twice a day the servant girl would silently push a tray in before slamming the door shut and locking it. His meals were meager affairs, hunks of bread, tough jerky, mugs of lukewarm water. If John could ignore the gnawing hunger of his empty stomach he would, but he forced each bland meal down. He wanted to be strong when his Lafayette finally came for him.

On the fourth day, Henry came into his room with Dr. Green, refused to say a single word to him. John briefly considered disobeying Dr. Green, not allowing him to examine him. Wondered how Henry would react. The threat of being sold to a brothel echoed in his ears, though, so he lay back on the bed without protest. Just shut his eyes while the doctor lifted his skirt, probed at him wordlessly. 

“He appears to be intact, Henry,” Dr. Green said as he stepped away from John on the bed. “I would vouch for his purity, sign my name on a marriage contract.”

“Or sales bill?” Henry asked, making John’s stomach drop. 

Dr. Green nodded, went to the basin in the corner to wash his hands. “That too. I feel for you, Henry, having to deal with such a waste.”

“It is. Hearing he’s intact is some good news, at least,” Henry said, folding his arms. Did not even look at John. 

“Well, hopefully, you can sell him off fast, fix this whole thing quickly.” The doctor and his father continued to chat, exited the room without another look or even a word to John. 

Perhaps a brothel wouldn’t be so bad. He’d be under Lafayette’s protection doing such work. He wouldn’t be trapped in this room. He could talk to people again.

John lay on his bed, watched the light change on his ceiling until it was darkness fell.

***

On the day after Dr. Green’s visit, John composed two notes, one to William and one to Joseph. They both said essentially the same thing, that Henry was holding him captive in his room, practically starving him and threatening to marry him to a man in a neighboring village or selling him off to the brothel. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking for from them...sympathy? Companionship? Help to get out? All John knew was he had to get his plight on paper, needed someone to bear witness.

John heard from them that very evening. Instead of by note or some other message, an hour or so after his supper tray was delivered, the door opened again. Joseph and William entered, flanked by Henry who stood in the open doorway. 

“You have visitors,” Henry said briskly but remained in the doorframe. 

“Will you not give us privacy?” John spat, glaring at his father over Joseph’s shoulder, but William stepped forward, almost flinching as he crossed the threshold into John’s room.

“There is no need, Laurens,” William clipped, holding up his hand to stop John from embracing him. “He should hear everything we have to say to each other.”

“‘Laurens?’” John quoted, his face twisted in a confused grimace. “Since when are we so for--”

“Please do not write us again,” Joseph cut in, looking pained. “It is...no longer proper for someone of your standing to be associating with us.”

John said nothing, but the look on his face asked the questions he could not find the words to form. 

“You _murdered_ your husband, Laurens! Not only is that terrible and vile, but you have been cursed by Martha herself, I am sure!”

“I didn’t…” John whispered feebly, drawing a glare from Henry.

“Just the week before, you told us how much you hated him!” Joseph said. 

“And that you would have rather died than share his bed.” William’s face became pinched, and he looked John straight on. John saw nothing from his childhood friend, the boy with whom he’d climbed trees and swam in rivers and picked berries and ran in fields. Nothing but cold, cruel indifference. “So, instead of doing that you took his? Well, you are getting part of your wish, Laurens. You are dead to us...all of us...now.”

And he turned and rushed past Henry, out the door. Joseph lingered for a beat longer, looking as if he had something else he wanted to say. Instead, he chose silence, turned and followed the same path his friend just did.

Henry just stood in the doorway looking at him. He held in his hand the folded letters John had convinced the servant girl to deliver to William and Joseph. “Pathetic and disobedient,” he remarked. “Since I cannot seem to trust even my own servants these days, I will be bringing you your meals myself,” he said. 

“Father,” John began, but then stopped. What could he possibly ask of this man, who saw him as nothing but a possession to barter for money? What he wanted Henry...nay, no mortal...could give him. He wanted Lafayette. His arms, his smile, his warmth, his voice. 

He wanted to go home. 

“I ride to Goose Creek tomorrow,” Henry said, citing the village an hour’s north of Charleston. “There are several potential young men there, looking for a husband. I will meet with their fathers. With Martha’s blessing, you will be married off before the first frost,” he sighed. 

John said nothing. Held close to his heart that he would be gone from this world before the leaves finished falling, let alone the frost arriving. 

_ Lafayette, where are you, my love? _

*** 

The days stretched long in isolation.  Not a single book on his shelves was left unread, all the paper in his desk used up, and instead he wrote on his skin until the ink too ran out. No refills, no servants to bring him what he desired. Instead he reread his books, memorized every word of every prayer in his childhood learning books, and even dove into his father’s law books when the boredom became too much. He watched as the sun moved across his floor, he grew thinner with what little food he was willing to eat, and dehydrated as his tears fell.

If the walls could speak, they would tell of his misery.

As he curled up in his bed, he whispered his prayers to Lafayette. He begged for his love to take him away, to at least bring him to another town where he was not known. While there was no answer, and certainly his love did not appear, the bracelet on his wrist would grow warm and shimmer in the light.

Alexander, too, was silent. Eliza, even, who once had sent him signs of comfort - warmer blankets in the winter, the right tasting wine when he felt sad - was deaf to his prayers.

One day, the door opened with a quiet squeak, and John barely had the energy to pull himself up.

A girl with brown ringlets and soft eyes pushed the door open, wearing an elegant dress with a skirt she hiked up in her hand. “Marty?” John whispered, sitting up, as she shut the door as quietly as possible.

“Shut up,” she commanded in a stern whisper, and John watched with wide eyes as she came to him. “Servants talk and Father would be furious with me if he knows I’m seeing you.” She pushed two books into his hands, then crossed her arms.

John stared down at the books. Two he had not read - romance novels, if he remembered the authors’ names. “Th-thank you,” he whispered. “I…”

“Did you kill him?”

John looked up. “No… no. I didn’t. Alexander did - he, um, put the poison in the drink.”

Marty stared at him, then shook her head. “I don’t know what that means, I don’t care. As long as you didn’t actually…”

“I’m not a murderer, you have to believe me,” he pleaded.

Marty gazed at him. They had long since grown apart, different now from the little children they had once been. Long gone were the summer nights of their childhood, sneaking into each other’s rooms to sleep beside each other, always inseparable since they were tiny. They gained their own friends, and seemed to… grow out of their friendship. John rarely saw her much, it seemed.

“You know how Father is, and everyone in the town talks,” she said. “Everyone is quite convinced that you are guilty and that you are the fallen angel of Charleston.”

“I told him,” John whimpered. “I told Father that it was cursed. Lafayette wouldn’t let it happen. He did it anyway.”

“And Father will try again, until every man willing to marry you is dead.” Marty sighed. “Pray your demigod comes quickly, brother.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before she turned and left, slipping out the door. As it shut and locked once again, John slumped onto the bed, clutching the books to his chest. 

The long day passed a little quicker, with new books to entertain him. Even as he read, though, the words of the people around him seemed to bounce around in his head.

He was hated.

He was a murderer.

He was dead to everyone.

He was a fallen angel.

He knew, in his heart, that he had not put the poison in the drink. He had watched Alexander do it, had he not? No, he had watched as a demigod poisoned his lover and had watched as Francis choked to death.

Perhaps he had not put the poison in the wine, but he certainly had not done anything to stop it. Did that make him guilty still?

He knew the laws. It did not make him a murderer. But it weighed on his soul, burning through him like a hot stone. Surely demigods could not suffer a terrible afterlife for their deeds, not like humans - did the blame shift to him? Would Lafayette be able to find him if he was not in the right place, forced into a chamber of suffering rather than the wondrous afterlife?

When he finally shut the first book, he realized he had barely read any words at all, only a smidgen of the story in his mind. He tossed it to the other side of the bed and curled up at his pillow, tears threatening to run free again. “Please, Lafayette,” he sobbed. “Please, my love, don’t let me ruin things for-”

There was a flash of light and he looked up through his tears, blurry and disoriented. A figure, bathed in moonlight, stood by his window before walking towards him.

John wiped at his eyes, hands shaking. “Lafay-”

He was cut off when he was pulled up and into a deep kiss, arms wrapping around his waist, pinning him against his lover’s chest. “Cry no more, my darling,” Lafayette growled, sending delighted shivers down John’s spine. “Tonight, we make you a demigod.”

John stared at him, then let out a sob, every emotion seeming to flood out of his chest. “Do it, now, please!” he begged, clinging tighter to Lafayette. “Please, please, please... “

“Your patience for barely a moment more, my dear,” Lafayette murmured. He gently set John back on the bed, then knelt before him, settling a hand on his leg. He unfurled it, a vial of clear liquid in his palm. John stared at it before taking it, removing the stopper-

“Not yet, little one,” Lafayette said quickly, taking hold of his wrist. “... This is dangerous, and this is irreversible. I need to know that this is truly what you want. That immortality, being with me… is not something you will come to regret.”

“Never,” John whispered, his hands continuing to shake. He took a deep breath. “My life is  _ hell  _ now, and it all started with that damn knife. Let it finish with this.”

Lafayette gazed at him, then kissed his hand. “That poison will stop your heart and kill you quickly,” he whispered. “The most you will feel is a tightness in your chest before it renders you unconscious. Your body… will remain here for others to find while your soul wanders on.”

John blinked. No servant would find his body - not when Henry did not trust them in John’s presence. Instead… it would be his father who investigated, when his meals went untouched.

“Good,” he whispered.

Lafayette stared at him, seeming to sense his thinking, before squeezing his hand. “... In the Underworld, you will be amongst hundreds of souls. I will find you there, and bring you to the heavens. Then… everything is complete. You will be mine.”

“Thank gods,” John said. He moved to take a gulp - but the grip on his wrist tightened, and he frowned. “... What?”

“After I leave,” Lafayette whispered. He gazed at John, then cupped his cheek. “... I know that this is not a goodbye, and I will see you very soon. But I cannot bear to watch the light fade from your beautiful eyes. Spare me that torture.”

John stared at him, his stomach twisting at the mere thought of doing this alone, then nodded. “O-Okay,” he said quietly, trying not to shake so badly. “Okay. You should… you should go.”

Lafayette gazed at him, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips, their mouths moving together. His fingers wove into John’s hair before they kissed again. “I adore you,” he whispered. “The numerous stars could not possibly represent the amount of love I have for you.”

John couldn’t help his smile. “Save your poetry for the heavens,” he whispered.

Lafayette smiled, then gave him a final kiss before standing. “Perfect boy,” he murmured, before pulling away.

He took a step back. When John blinked, he was gone, seeming to take the warmth with him.

John took a shaky breath. He looked down at the poison in his hand. As he scooted back on the bed, lying amongst the pillows, he watched how the liquid moved. Like water, he thought to himself. Perhaps it would be as tasteless. Lafayette had promised no pain.

He pulled off the stopper. He took a final breath. Then he brought it to his lips and threw it back, letting every drop hit his tongue.

At first, there was no reaction. He took another deep breath, then another, curling up on his side, waiting for the moment he met the darkness. His hands shook, his nerves jumped in his skin.

He was about to die.

The next second, his stomach heaved. He pulled himself to the side of the bed and threw up, his vomit hitting the floor, and he let out a whimper. His chest tightened, his ribs seeming to press in on his heart, and he cried out in pain. He struggled for a grasp on his sheets before his vision finally darkened and he collapsed, curled up on the side of his bed.

His hearing was the last to go, the hooting of the owl by his window being the last thing he heard.

\-----

The Underworld was not like the stories he was told. It was not long, neat lines of souls, heading their way to be judged. It was a large mass of them, size of the sea it seemed, stumbling around as they all pushed forward.

John could see nothing.

As though his vision was robbed from him, he could only hear and feel and smell, lost in the waves of voices and whimpers and cries surrounding him. It was everything and nothing he had imagined, and in his confusion, felt the misery of the surrounding souls begin to penetrate him. He let out his own whimper, lost, afraid.

Hands grabbed at him, pulling him back, souls pushing ahead of him to reach their judgement first and move on. John recalled that the paradise after death could only hold the best souls, and a certain number at that. One day, its gates would close to mortal souls forever. He recalled the anxiety it gave the most devoutly religious persons.

But that was not his destination, he knew. He was meant for somewhere different.

_ The gates will close,  _ a soul whimpered beside him, grabbing onto John’s arm, pushing forward.  _ We will be shut out! _

_ Where is my daughter?   _ cried a woman, perhaps a few feet away.  _ My husband took her first. Where is my daughter? _

_ Mama! Mama!  _ wailed another, a little boy he guessed.

_ Didn’t mean to do it.  _ He nearly jumped at the shadowy man’s voice beside him.  _ Didn’t mean to kill ‘em. I was drunk. Mad. Not my fault. Not my fault… _

John ached to see. He brought his hands to his eyes but no amount of blinking or rubbing would bring him his sight. He whimpered again, feeling loss and desolation nestled in his chest. “Lafayette,” he whispered aloud, hoping his prayer would reach. “Please, please, my dear. Please.”

Silence followed. Not simply a lack of prayer, but sudden, total silence, as if every soul around him had disappeared. He looked around, but no sound came from any direction, the whispers and murmurs of the dead seeming to disappear. He swallowed, taking a shaky breath.

“John.”

He started in surprise, then turned as his hand was taken by a warm one. Lafayette’s presence was relaxing, gentle, bringing the sunshine with him in the darkness, and John quickly fled to it, pressing against him. “L-Lafayette,” he whimpered. “Gods, Lafayette, I-I can’t see-”

Lafayette’s hand came to his cheek, a kiss pressed to his forehead. “Open your eyes, darling.”

John did so, and the moment he did, he could see again. Gods, had he simply kept them shut the whole time? Lafayette was smiling at him, love in his eyes, looking as radiant as the sun he commanded. He held a lantern, glistening like the stars, lighting up the space around them.

John looked down at himself and nearly jumped.

His skin was white as paper, ghostly, every bit of color lost. He still wore the clothes he had died in, but they too had taken on a grayish tint, and so had his hair; no longer curly and silken, but flat and dead against his shoulders. He looked up at Lafayette, tears forming in his eyes. “Take me,” he whispered.

“Gladly,” Lafayette murmured. He pressed a soft kiss to John’s lips, then took his hand and turned away, leading him in the other direction. All around them, gray-skinned hands reaching out, but the light never reached their faces.

_ Take us,  _ they pleaded, their sorrowful mantra beginning again.  _ Save me. Save my daughter. Bring us with you. The sunlight.... _

John clung to Lafayette’s arm, following just behind, relieved by the presence of the light. Lafayette was the opposite of this place; warm, bright, and hopeful, contrasting against the confusion and misery of souls who could only hope to reach paradise. John felt like a lamb, being guided by his shepherd, subject only to his whim.

“Lee prefers it this way,” Lafayette said. “He enjoys the dark. The sadness. He is… quite a downer at our parties.”

John tried to smile, but could not bring himself to do it.

Finally, the sea of hands stopped and John’s chest felt a little lighter. Lafayette stopped, then turned back and pulled John into his arms. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

He did so, wrapping his arms around Lafayette’s neck, burying his face in his chest. Lafayette held him tight, pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then the world lurched, turned black, and he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr - coffee-quill  
> Kacie's Tumblr - likearootlesstree


	5. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do demigods typically live?” he asked with a smile.
> 
> Lafayette smirked. “The only true way to live,” he said. “Plenty of wine, and plenty of parties.”

He woke in a bed to the sound of singing birds.

As his eyes slowly opened, he yawned. He sat up, then looked around, brows furrowed in confusion. The room was wide and spacious, far fancier than his home villa, and decorated richly. The bed, tall and wide, was extraordinarily comfortable with red crimson sheets. The walls seemed to be adorned with gold, fine furniture set around. He looked up at the high ceiling, then down at the rich white nightgown he wore, soft and comfortable against his skin.

It was a room worthy of a king.

The door creaked open, and a small boy peeked into the room. No older than eight, his eyes widened at the sight of John before he disappeared with soft, hurried footsteps.

John frowned. He pushed the blankets off and stood, his feet hitting the smooth marble floor. He ran his fingers over the comforter, then walked to the table, surrounded by chairs with a pitcher of wine on its surface. He looked up at the colored banners on the wall, then walked to the door.

He reached for the handle when it was pulled open.

Lafayette stood there, wearing fine golden robes. “You’re awake,” he breathed, before pulling John close by his waist. Their lips met in a deep kiss, strong and relieved and possessive. John pressed as close to him as he could, letting out a shaky whimper. “I feared it would take you longer… What do you remember?”

John stared at him, then frowned, setting his hands on Lafayette’s. “I-I don’t… nothing,” he whispered. “I remember you - you gave me the poison. Then… nothing. Waking up here.”

“It will come back to you in time, darling.” John looked up as two men came up behind Lafayette - one with a toolbelt, unfamiliar, while Alexander stood beside him, holding the little boy’s hand. “Though… perhaps it is better if you don’t remember being dead.”

Lafayette turned to face the two men, holding John close by the waist. “You know Alexander, demigod of speech and writing,” he said, as Alexander smiled at him. “This is his son, Philip. And this is Hercules, demigod of forging and fire.”

John nodded to them both, then bit his lip. He couldn’t decide how he felt now about Alexander - gratitude? Dislike? He had freed John from his marriage to Francis, but had left him with the mess that came of it. His lack of friends, isolation, and abandonment had only come because of Alexander’s method of assassination. He didn’t know what to feel.

“Lafayette!”

A woman came hurrying towards them, wearing a light blue gown that sent an air of recognition through John. “Lafayette,” she said quickly, looking alarmed. “He is awake?”

“Mama!” Philip exclaimed, running to her.

As she picked Philip up - Eliza, John’s mind told him - Lafayette tightened his grip on John. “Just now, yes. What is it?”

“Washington is coming to see both of you,” she said, sounding grave. “He knows what you’ve done and he is  _ not  _ happy.”

“How?” Lafayette demanded.

“Did you think you could create a demigod without Washington finding out this soon?” Hercules crossed his arms. “Someone saw and told.”

Lafayette gripped John’s hand. “... Fine,” he said, jaw tight. “You all should go, if Washington wants to come here.”

Alexander looked as though he wanted to say something, but Eliza took his hand, holding Philip with the other before leading them away. Hercules turned and walked the other way, and in just moments, they were alone.

“Washington… won’t send me back, will he?” John whispered, looking up at him. “I could not stand it if - “

“He won’t send you back,” Lafayette said softly. He wrapped his arms around John, then bent down and picked him up, pushing the door shut with his foot. They shared a kiss as Lafayette carried him to the bed, gently laying him on his back. “... We will convince him otherwise. There are clothes here that should fit you…”

As Lafayette turned and looked through the golden dresser beside the bed, John pulled up the nightgown, lifting it over his head. Naked beneath, he couldn’t help his blush, but refused to be ashamed in his lover’s presence.

“This should be fi-” Lafayette turned with a dress and belt in his arms, then stopped at the sight of John. He bit his lip, then set the clothes aside, stepping up to him. “You’re damn beautiful,” he murmured, settling his hands on John’s thighs. John bit his lip as he was pulled closer to the edge, face red. “Beautiful boy-”

From the door came three harsh knocks and John flinched. Lafayette frowned, then grabbed the clothes and pushed them into John’s hands. “Put that on. Hurry.”

As Lafayette walked to the door, John was quick to pull the light blue gown on, then the belt. While his feet were bare, he stood, the hem falling to just above his knee. Lafayette glanced back at him, then pulled the door open, stepping back for Washington.

Washington was, by all accounts, an elegant god. Fair and wise, slow to anger, mortals sung his praises. He had only the biggest temples dedicated to him, the richest sacrifices, the most beautiful portraits.

Upon first look, John knew that nothing was exaggerated.

“Father,” Lafayette said quietly, bowing his head as Washington stepped inside. He shut the door, then gestured towards John. “This is John Laurens. My intended.”

John quickly fell to one knee, head bowed, his heart hammering in his chest. “Your Lordship,” he said, hoping he hid his shaking.

“Get up, boy,” Washington snapped before turning to Lafayette, his arms crossed. John frowned as he got back up. “What in the  _ universe _ makes you think you can do this?  _ Creating  _ a demigod?”

“I love him, Father, and it was the only way to make him mine.”

“Give me a damn good reason to not send him back to earth and strip  _ you  _ of your privileges.”

“Aside from my devotion to him?” Lafayette crossed his arms and scowled, their demeanors nearly matching. “He was in the worst possible position in his mortal life, being treated as a mere object by his father and being forced into unwanted marriages. He was locked in his room with no visitors, little food, and his entire town thinking he is guilty of murder when he is not. Believe me, Father, sending him back is a fate worse than death, and you are known for being merciful.”

“Immortalizing him is not the solution! What do you plan to do when you finally grow tired of him? You have done it many, many times before, tossing away the toys you claim devotion to.”

“Have I ever gone as far as to immortalize those lovers? John caught my attention when he defended one of my sex workers who was being cheated out of payment. He already carried Eliza’s blessing and was the prized virgin of his town. This is not a small matter to me. He deserves it, and I  _ love him.” _

Washington’s hands made fists but he kept a calm tone in his voice. “This is the boy whose husband was murdered by Alexander, I presume. For you to keep him?”

“Yes. Alex was agreeable.”

Washington sighed, then glanced at John. “He had Eliza’s blessing as well?”

“He did. And if you should decide to send him back - then make me mortal, as well. I'd rather experience such a life and an eventual end, if it means being with him.”

John stared at him. Washington took a deep breath, then sighed. “Very well, then,” he said. “I see… you are determined.”

“I am,” Lafayette said.

Washington eyed John, silent for a few seconds, before looking back at Lafayette. “You will not deflower him.”

“What?” Lafayette and John demanded at the same time.

“You want my mercy,” Washington said, looking at Lafayette with challenging eyes. “It is given with conditions. Live here as you please, but from this moment on, any attempts to take his virginity will only result in agony for him.”

“That is not  _ fair-” _

“As things are, I ought to banish you both for this insubordination!”

Both fell silent.

“I should not be rewarding you for going against our rules, as it would be a terrible example for the rest of our people. But I will allow this one mercy, and this one only.” Washington glanced at both of them. “... He will remain a virgin to you. I don’t care if another should decide to deflower him.”

He turned and disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Lafayette glared at the door, then turned and shoved a vase off the table, John jumping as it shattered. “What in hell should make him decide that?” he demanded, looking up at John. “To forbid us from consummating-”

“Don’t yell,” John whimpered. “Please don’t yell or… break things.”

Lafayette frowned, then glanced at the vase and sighed. “I’m sorry.” He walked over until he could pull John into his arms, pressing a deep kiss to his lips. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

John wrapped his arms around his neck, frowning. “I don’t want to remain a virgin,” he whispered, gazing at him. “In my town, it was the source of my value. I want it gone.”

“I’m afraid… that cannot be done, now,” Lafayette said quietly.

John frowned, then sat on the bed and pulled up his skirt. “Try it.”

Lafayette stared at him. “What?”

“Try to take me.” He pulled the belt off, then leaned back on his arms. “I don’t believe him.”

“John, what Washington says is law-”

“Every word?” John fixated him with a stern look. “You can either attempt to fuck me and see if he’s truly cursed us, or we can have an interesting talk about those other lovers you’ve claimed devotion to.”

Lafayette was silent. Then he pulled off his belt, tossed it aside, and pushed John onto his back. “We’re not having that conversation until later,” he growled before kissing John.

John eagerly spread his legs, breathless as they kissed, his body quickly stirring in interest. “I have questions-”

“Not now, John. Testing this curse first.”

“Fine.”

A bottle of lubricant appeared in Lafayette’s hand and he quickly slicked his fingers, pushing one against John’s entrance. John fought not to squirm at the feeling, breathlessly waiting. The threat of pain hung over him but he only nodded, biting his lip.

Lafayette pushed his finger in. Pain seemed to explode along his spine, his hips, and behind his eyes, and he barely muffled his cry, clapping a hand over his mouth. It increased for barely a moment before Lafayette’s hand pulled back and settled on his leg instead. “John… John?”

“T-True,” John whimpered. “True. He cursed us.”

Lafayette scowled and pulled away, crossing his arms. “Damn it…”

John sat up on his elbows. “What are we going to do?” he whispered. “I  _ want  _ you.”

“I want you, too.” Lafayette sighed, then sat on the bed beside him. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we can do.”

John pulled himself up, then climbed into his lap, straddling his legs. He let out a soft whimper before kissing him, pressing close. He rested his head on Lafayette’s shoulder and closed his eyes - never had he been so happy to be in his lover’s arms.

After a few minutes, he looked up, biting his lip. “What if… there is a way?” he whispered.

Lafayette frowned at him. “What way?”

“He said… he said  _ you  _ couldn’t be the one to deflower me,” he said. “And he doesn’t care if someone else does.”

“John, no-”

“Someone else can do it. It just has to be my first time! And then you can have me - “

“I said  _ no,  _ John. I’m not handing you to someone else,” Lafayette said sternly. “Don’t think about it.”

John set his hands on his chest, pushing him back. “You said I’m not an object,” he said in the same tone. “In the meadow, you promised you wouldn’t be like the men who see me as chattel. Don’t talk like I’m your possession to keep or give away.”

Lafayette frowned, then lowered his eyes. “You're right,” he said. “I'm just… frustrated right now. Not thinking right.”

John kissed his cheek. “Don't try thinking anymore,” he whispered. “We can forget about it for now. Show me around here, instead. I’m not sure about where I am.”

Lafayette gave him a slight smile, then kissed him gently. “Alright,” he said. He pressed soft kisses to John’s neck, then stood, holding him tight. “... I’d kiss you all day if I could,” he mumbled, gazing at him.

John giggled. “We have eternity, don’t we?”

“... We do.” Lafayette grinned, then set him down and took his head. “Come. You will love this place the moment you see its glory.”

\---

John could only stare at the front of the palace. Truly it was the most glorious sight he had ever seen - towering high above them, its windows glimmered in the sunlight, the image of beauty. Surrounding them were rows upon rows of flowers, all sorts from across the world, with lavish fountains and smooth walkways. It was a palace that kings could only dream of, with many gods and demigods alike walking in and out with beautiful robes and decorations.

Paradise could not be more beautiful than this.

“Do all the deities live in here?” he whispered, arms wrapped around Lafayette’s waist.

Lafayette smoothed his hair behind his ear. “Not all,” he said. He turned and gestured towards the path leading away from the palace, turning into a forest and disappearing among the trees. “There are beautiful mansions that way, for the deities who prefer more privacy for their families.”

“There are… families?”

Lafayette nodded. “Some fall in love and decide to have children, such as Alexander and Eliza, having Philip together. They chose to live in the palace, though.”

John nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a child to raise,” he said softly. “Before I knew I preferred men. Then… well, there’s only one way we would have…”

“Forget about that.” Lafayette kissed his hair. “All in the past. If you want to raise a child… we could do so at some point, if we wanted. A child of our own.”

John looked up at him. “What do you mean?” he said softly. “Neither of us could carry one.”

Lafayette grinned. “We are not mortals, my love, and are not bound by the same restrictions. A child does not have to be carried. How were many of us created from nothing?”

“I see,” John said softly. “Maybe… at some point.”

Lafayette kissed him. “You can do as you please, here. Create things from the air - with practice - and go where you want. You’re a demigod now. Be sure to live as one.”

“How do demigods typically live?” he asked with a smile.

Lafayette smirked. “The only true way to live,” he said. “Plenty of wine, and plenty of parties.”

\-----

Adjusting to life as a demigod was interesting, to say the least. John was shy, at first, choosing to stick to his and Lafayette’s quarters for most of the day. Even though he was a being like them, he didn’t have any duties. Every morning Lafayette would rise in the purple dark, shoot his arrow to light the sun in the sky. John watched from the window of their bedroom, loved the way the fire of the arrow lit up Lafayette’s face, the sparkling beams of the sunrise illuminating his skin, making him glow. The quiet peace of morning dawning. The warm, comforting knowledge that the being he loved did that. Made morning come. 

They would have breakfast together, the richest, most delicious foods John had ever feasted on. Lafayette liked to feed him by hand, drape him across his lap and ply him with exotic fruits, sumptuous confections, decadent cheeses and fine cuts of meat. John tried everything he was offered, loved the feeling of laying back in his lover’s arms and being doted on. 

After breakfast, he let Lafayette dress him, in whatever he pleased. Every garment he put on was beautiful, soft, light as air. Mornings with Lafayette were wonderful, everything John ever dreamed. Unfortunately, they couldn’t last all day. Lafayette often had duties, meetings with other gods, or Washington, and left John alone for large chunks of time. 

At first these times were lonely. John would nap, or work on his conjuring powers. Read, paint, garden. Solitary pursuits. However, when he finally had the courage to walk the heavens alone, he found comforting friendship in some of the other demigods. 

Alexander was his first friend, and being friends with him was easy, as well as exhausting. He talked incessantly, was a ball of energy that did not tire. If Philip was not cradled in his arms, then a book likely was - how he kept track of answered prayers, he told John. Such prayers were often from writers about their craft. “Mortals have limited imagination,” he said. “That's how they were made. When they use so much at a time, it wears out, and becomes sort of a block in the mind. Prayers for it are usually frustrated. Others are about story direction, or journalists who ask for strength in revealing secrets.”

Hercules, too, became a swift friend, though he did not talk half as much as Alexander did. Quiet at times but not aloof by any means, he was the gods’ blacksmith of sorts, creating many of their items. “Tailoring is my passion, though,” he said, with rows and rows of fine clothing displayed in the front of his workshop. “... Laf likes to make requests for you. Only the best quality and most beautiful designs.”

John had blushed.

Eliza, though, was his closest friend. Demigoddess of beauty, humility, and young life, Eliza was graceful and kind. They took walks in the gardens and would sit in the meadows, relaxing in the shade of the trees. They talked for hours, about seemingly every topic, though John’s home life was a bit of a sore spot. Like Alexander, Philip was often in her care, a hand firmly gripping her skirts as he stared at the world around them.

“Will Philip be the patron of something?” John asked.

“If he has a particular talent, yes.” Eliza adjusted the boy on her hip, who napped against her. “Many crafts and callings are claimed by older deities, but perhaps he will find his own space. Or replace another. We will know in time.”

John hesitated. The wind rustled his loose curls. “Will Washington give me something? Laf said it's possible.”

“Perhaps, John.” Eliza smiled at him. “If there are particular services you can provide, or if you can learn another’s craft, Washington will consider you. Give it time, though. You haven't had much of a chance to enter his good graces.”

“I didn't mean to be a problem,” John said.

“You aren't. If anyone is a problem right now, it is Lafayette - few would think to break the rules in such a way. But he is forgiving, and you are not to blame. Chin up.”

John tried to smile. It fell flat.

Life as a demigod was not as he had expected. There was a human aspect to it, if it could be described that way - the society, the families, operating in such a similar fashion - and John knew that certainly, humans had taken after their creators in perhaps a more extreme way. But Charleston was small and suffocating compared to the open air of this realm, and never would he willingly go back.

“Jacky, Jacky!”

John looked down from his daydreaming and stared at Philip, who was struggling to climb onto his knee with something clenched in his fist. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, pulling Philip up into his lap. “Whatcha got there?”

Philip, with dark curls falling in his face and a gleam in his eye, shoved a miniature model ship into his face. “Look! Herc made it!”

John took the ship and smiled, eyeing the incredible detail from the oars to the folds in the sails. “Wow,” he said. “That’s neat. Did you show that to Daddy?”

Philip nodded, looking proud as he took it back. “Battleship,” he said. “Boom!”

John opened his mouth, ready to say that a real battleship was much different, but he only smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Boom.”

A hand settled on his jaw and he looked up, only to receive a loving kiss. “Hey,” Lafayette murmured, smiling at him as he leaned over his shoulder. “Thought you’d be out here.”

“Always am,” John said with a smile, looking up at him.

Lafayette kissed his forehead. “Good.” Then he looked down at Philip and tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Pip - your mama’s just up the road, that way. You should go show her your toy.”

Philip nodded before climbing off John’s lap, beginning to walk down the garden path. John watched him go until Lafayette slid onto the bench beside him, then pulled him into a deep kiss. John was quick to respond, pressing as close as he could while they kissed. “Anyone else needing your attention for the day?” John breathed, gazing up at him.

“Not for a good few hours,” Lafayette growled. He smirked, pressed a kiss to John’s neck. “Got something in mind, little one?”

“Maybe a few things.” John tilted his head back, taking a shaky breath as Lafayette began to suck a mark. “Oh…”

“Tell me what you want,” Lafayette drawled, a hand slipping beneath John’s skirt.

John let out a whimper. This was their game, their method. It was coming up with different fantasies, different desires, whatever they deemed arousing, and whispering them aloud as they brought each other to orgasm. Lafayette focused on John, always focused on John, always in tune to his needs, knowing exactly what he wanted. The best fantasies were written down, stored away, for when they would one day be needed.

“You're a soldier.” As his cock was grasped, John took a shaky breath, and Lafayette eyed him with interest. “My h-husband. Coming home to me, when y-ou.. when I didn't know to expect you.”

“Close to home?” Lafayette whispered, stroking his length.

“I want to associate it with good, and with you,” John moaned.

Lafayette pulled him into his lap, looking breathless and aroused. “Absolutely.” He continued kissing John’s neck, starting another mark, one hand stroking him. “My sweet boy…”

“Rooms, our rooms,” John managed to get out.

Lafayette snapped his fingers and in an instant the gardens were gone, replaced by golden walls and the world’s most comfortable sofa. John gasped as he was picked up and carried to the bed, nearly thrown onto it, hitting the mattress with a grunt. He looked back to see Lafayette eyeing him with pure lust, hunger in his gaze, as he pulled off his sandals.

“I'd think you'd be awaiting my return with a significantly less amount of clothing,” he growled, tossing them to the side. Always sinking so easily into his roles. He put one knee onto the bed to climb up.

“I… thought you'd like to tear them off me, my love,” John said, then cringed at his own tone. He was never so good at acting. “If I had known you were com-”

Lafayette silenced him with a kiss, so commanding yet gentle that John melted into his arms. “Let us not waste our breath on words,” he growled. “I have missed you dearly but there is something else I need.”

John was pliant as Lafayette pushed him to lay back. His legs were pulled apart and he let out a soft moan as kisses were pressed to the inside of his thighs, fingers digging into his flesh. “Beautiful,” Lafayette murmured. He lifted John’s skirt higher, revealing all of him.

John held his breath. There was an anxiety he couldn't shake, when Lafayette focused on his skin this way. That he would find a blemish, an imperfection, or discover that he didn't want the flesh that had been groped by another. But that moment didn't come, never did, and instead Lafayette seemed to want him more every time.

It was easier now to slip into the fantasy, imagining the sea breeze blowing in through a window, the soft sheets beneath him. He could see Lafayette as one of the soldiers, armor tossed away, war paint still needing to be scrubbed off. When his mouth closed around John’s cock, taking him deep with ease, John nearly cried out, pushing his hips up. “Shit!” he gasped. “Oh, p-please, my love-”

Lafayette pinned him down with one arm barred across his belly, his mouth like magic around John’s cock. He must know every inch of John by now, every bit of skin seen and kissed and worshipped. John whimpered and curled his toes. “Laaaaaf!” he gasped. “Please, shit, c-close…”

Lafayette pulled back then, a hand coming to grasp his cock instead, slowly stroking. “Sensitive, my dear?” he drawled. “I've missed your cries. There is no one who can match your beauty.”

“Have you tried?” He whispered, and it slipped out before he could stop it. He whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. “N-No, forget…”

There was a few moments of quiet. Then, Lafayette cupped his cheek with one hand. “John… look at me. Are you alright?”

John opened his eyes, Lafayette’s concerned face looking down at him. He squirmed and sat up, tears welling up in his eyes. “Y-You won't go to someone else?” It came as barely a whisper. “If you can't deflower me - you will still be faithful?”

“Darling,” Lafayette sighed. The mood dropped several degrees and he slumped beside John on the bed, looking at him with soft eyes. “What causes these doubts to run through your head?”

John turned and snuggled as close as he could, only feeling safe and secure when Lafayette held him against his chest. He mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“... All my suitors would have done it,” John said, hesitant to raise his eyes to Lafayette’s.

Lafayette frowned and rubbed his side. “Explain what  _ it  _ is.”

“You know. Infidelity. If I'm not there… taking pleasure from another.” John hesitated. “I've just… always known that whoever I married, I wouldn't be their one and only. That's how things were.”

“Sweetheart…” Lafayette ran his thumb over his cheek, sighing. “I adore you. In hundreds of thousands of years, I have never met someone as beautiful and interesting and kind as you. The mortals surrounding you were cruel and self-centered. You deserved so much better than that.”

John squeezed his eyes shut again and let Lafayette rub his back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t - it’s like it can’t get out of my head.”

“Don’t apologize.” Lafayette kissed his hair. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

John swallowed. He cuddled closer. Then he took a deep breath and pushed himself out of Lafayette’s arms, scooting down by his hip. He pulled up his skirt and grasped his cock in one hand, slowly stroking.

Lafayette took a breath in. “You don’t have to…”

“Let me.” John looked up at him, then leaned in for a kiss. As their lips moved together, his hand moved in rhythm, stroking from root to tip and back. “... I have to give, too.”

Lafayette didn’t argue, pulling John into another kiss. He rubbed his back, letting out a soft moan. John moved his hand faster and rubbed his thumb over the tip, watching how Lafayette’s muscles tightened and loosened beneath him. “I love you,” John whispered. “I love you. I owe you everything. Everything that I am now, my life, I owe to you.”

“You have… no debts.” Lafayette’s hand grasped him, pulling a whimper from John. He stroked slowly, holding eye contact, taking a deep breath. “Perhaps I am selfish. I could not stand to see the winds of time take you when you could have been mine.”

John stared at him. “Had you not come to me, I would never have known the fulfillment you give me,” he said quietly. “I love you more than you can know.”

Lafayette gazed at him with soft eyes. He drew John into a kiss, claiming his mouth, their tongues finding each other. “For the rest of eternity,” he said.

As Lafayette brought him to orgasm, John cried out and arched his back, swears escaping his lips. When Lafayette followed, shuddering beneath him, John returned the kiss, limp in his lover’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr - coffee-quill  
> Kacie's tumblr - likearootlesstree


	6. Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They kissed softly, legs tangling beneath the sheets, soft and warm and loving. John tucked his head next to Lafayette’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He let himself drift off back to sleep, safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here iles the end.

Time had an unusual way of passing in the realm of the gods. It dipped and flowed, like water in a river, some days coursing into each other, weeks flowing into months into years. But where water can carve stone, smooth it, wear it down, John’s and Lafayette’s love blossomed, flowered. Lush as a jungle. Every moment possible they spent together. Woke up tangled in silk sheets, the night fading into purple as Lafayette rose to shoot his arrow, bring up the sun. He’d return as the sunlight bled into the room, would either snuggle back into bed with John or drag him up, always had some beautiful place or wondrous thing to show him.

During the winter, when the snow and chill came, it was near impossible for Lafayette to tear himself from the warmth of John’s arms, and he would delay rising the sun as late as he could. He’d retrieve his arrow early just for the privilege of sweeping John into his arms, cuddling him in the shelter of their room.

Spring and summer were full of festivals and offerings to the gods. John loved watching the other gods and goddesses dressing up, receiving their offerings, their prayers clinging to their garments like snowflakes. Dancing and parties and revelling and feasts, the fun and joy going on and on and on. And every night in Lafayette’s arms, his lips, his hands…

The love between them grew stronger, but it didn’t make the limitations on their relationship any easier. Their passion never cooled, and each night they couldn’t make love just ignited their desires further.

A few years since John had been changed had passed; not too much human time. The last time John had let himself silently check on his family, his father’s beard had gone slightly gray, his hair thinning. Martha married off, two little ones and swelled pregnant with a third. John’s heart hiccuped when he saw them, his family he hadn’t met yet. He knew he could go back, and visit, but with his standing still shaky with Washington, he was still wary. Even when Lafayette assured him he’d be able to return safely, he wasn’t ready to take that chance.

One day Lafayette came home in a mood like John had never seen him, agitated and distracted. It took John several hours of soothing and petting to calm Lafayette enough to explain what bothered him so, and even then the words came out haltingly, like he chose each one carefully. Each word, a decision he was making. Always wanting to spare John any pain.

“Some of my...peers...were speaking inappropriately,” Lafayette explained slowly, his jaw tense. Gazed over John’s head to stare out the window.

“And what is so unusual about that?” John prompted. “Many of your contemporaries are crass and lack manners, that is not out--”

“They were speaking of you.” Lafayette’s voice flat, his eyes shut as if the admission pained him.

John fell silent, unsure what to say.

At his lack of reply, Lafayette sat up straighter, caught John in his intense gaze.

“Promise me, little one. <i>Promise me.</i>”

“Anything,” John breathed. Watched Laf press his lips to John’s knuckles. “I will promise you anything, my love. You know this.”

A storm passed over Lafayette’s face. “You must stay away from them… Lee, Samuel, and Thomas… While I tried to put them in their place, they may be so brazen as to approach you directly.”

“About what?” John searched Lafayette’s eyes.

“They have suggested…” Lafayette huffed, gathered himself. Tugged John closer into his lap. “That perhaps...our arrangement...is…” He glared, puzzled through the words. John waited patiently, knew that time wasn’t important here. “They have offered to assist in ridding you of your virginity. As a favor. To me.” He spoke the words as if they tasted sour in his mouth.

“Oh,” said John simply. Hadn’t spent much time with any of the gods Lafayette had listed; Lee spent most of his time in the underworld, Samuel was a prissy thing, and Thomas’s reputation… “Is dismantling Washington’s curse a task you are willing to pass off?” John spoke carefully, reading the taut lines in Lafayette’s face and shoulders.

“Not a task, not a burden, my darling, how many ways can I say it?” Lafayette hoisted John so close, John felt as though he could feel his voice vibrate through him. “I will go only where you will lead. If you wish to allow another to deflower you, I will step aside and--”

“Never,” John declared. They had spoken of these things before, when Washington had first cursed them, and John suggested allowing another to open him. And while he still hated his virginity, hated his status as “pure,” he had moved past such limitations. Lafayette had shown him pleasure, and freedom, and love. “You or no one. I will belong to you alone.”

Lafayette exhaled the breath he had been holding. Caught John in a kiss that was oddly soft in contrast to the passion in his voice. Their hands grabbed and pulled and clung but it was not untamed passion now, only overwhelming adoration and _need_ to be close. John breathed in his lover’s scent, like a warm summer day, and wondered how he could ever stand the touch of another.

He had never felt this loved and fulfilled in his life. Who would stress over the salacious comments of another when Lafayette would guard him? Protect him?

Lafayette murmured in his ear as they pressed closer still, sweet nothings and admissions of love that made John’s heart swell. “I’m yours,” John mumbled in response, relaxed and settled in Lafayette’s lap. Fingers ran through his loose curls, circles rubbed on his back. “You’re mine. All we need.”

“All we need,” Lafayette repeated in a whisper. “Nothing more.”

\-------

“Why are you coming to me with this?”

“It is _painful_ to see them, George, if only you could-”

“The love and adoration between them is clear as day-”

“It broke the rules, yes, but-”

“It’s been _years-”_

_“Quiet!”_

The three demigods fell silent before George, grimacing under his anger. They glanced at each other before Eliza stepped forward. “Please, George, their punishment has gone on for long enough,” she said. “You’ve made an example of them. It is unnecessary now.”

“It happened _years_ ago, and their love hasn’t waned. Strengthened, even, I think,” Alexander said. “John isn’t an infatuation. Laf _loves_ him, like he’s never loved anyone else, and John’s never looked back since getting here.”

“They’ve made peace with your restriction while still being all over each other. It’s gettin’ annoying, almost,” Hercules said.

“They need to get laid,” Alexander deadpanned.

George eyed the three of them. True, Lafayette and his pet had lasted far longer together than Lafayette’s past flings. Claimed devotion tended to last less than a year before he found another to claim.

To _bring_ a mortal to their realm, breaking an ancient rule, had been a shock.

But was likely just another one of Lafayette’s attempts at creating  excitement for himself.

George looked at their faces. His creations were stern, worried, and pleading all at once. They were Lafayette’s closest family, the only ones who knew him well and the only ones who would care to petition on his behalf.

And Alexander had been the one to point out Lafayette’s lust, not love, of past relations. If all three saw the true love, then really, who was George to call it anything else?

“You truly believe what you speak of?” George asked. “That Lafayette is devoted to him? And that John does not regret their actions?”

Alexander huffed. “That town was ready to burn him at the stake, and his father would be holding the torch. He doesn’t want to go home.”

George leaned back in his seat. Lafayette had always had his wild streak, and George often thought about wanting him to settle with someone. To focus on his duties, to finally spend _real_ time in their realm without popping off to the revering mortals every chance he had. A wife or husband who could, in a sense, tie him down.

He wasn’t exactly asking for _John._

“Lafayette saved John, and John has saved him, too, in his own way,” Eliza said. “We’re _begging_ you, George. At least they will know you do not disapprove of them any longer.”

“Do they know you are here?”

They each hesitated. “No,” Hercules said. “Laf doesn’t think there’s a chance of you reversing your decision. John believes you’ve already given your mercy.”

Alexander and Eliza mumbled to each other. George gazed at the floor thoughtfully.

Perhaps the years were enough.

“The three of you agree, then, that to allow them this would not be a mistake?”

“Of course,” Eliza said.

“You want Laf to be happy?” Alexander crossed his arms. “This makes him happy. You talk about wanting him to settle, like you wanted me to.”

Eliza threw him a look. Alexander pulled her into a kiss, wearing a sheepish grin. “...You’re gorgeous, y’know?”

Eliza rolled her eyes, then looked at George. “Allowing them to enjoy the extent of their affection cannot be a mistake.”

“And everyone is sick of their pining,” Hercules added. _“Honestly.”_

George nodded slowly. “Fine, then,” he said. “Tell them to come see me.”

The three couldn’t hide the excitement that lit up their features before they turned and left the room in a hurry. The room fell silent as their footsteps faded away and George leaned back, sighing.

\------

John turned the page of his journal. His quill pressed to the parchment as he continued his entry in scrawling cursive, careful in how he phrased each sentence. He stopped and tapped the feather against his cheek. The journal was new, his last one filled up again. He had too much to write. Far too many stories. He didn’t want to lose a single one across the centuries, not by a bad memory. Too many good things to write.

Beside him, Lafayette snored. A late one out with friends last night, a handful of demigods and angels that had more than their fair share of fun, and John had been drifting off to sleep when Lafayette finally came to bed. Cue the hangover and the sunrise that would have been missed, had John not awakened in time.

Now, he hadn’t been able to keep John company to noontime.

Not that he minded. As much as he adored Lafayette, the silence could be just as comforting, reminding him of the small freedoms he’d achieved at home through isolation.

He leaned over and kissed Lafayette’s cheek, then turned back to his journal. His quill met the page again and as Lafayette snored, birds sung around them, calling back and forth as they fluttered from branch to branch.

Footsteps approached and John looked up. Alexander was running, slowing to a stop in front of them, looking out of breath and flushed as Eliza and Hercules followed just behind. “John! John,” he said. “Washington, he wants, wants-”

“Wants to see the two of you,” Eliza continued. “Now. You need to _go.”_

John blanched and put a hand on Lafayette’s arm, giving him a push. “Did we… do… something?” he asked, frowning.

“What? No! No. It’s not a bad thing. It’s…” Eliza glanced at Hercules. “It should be a very, very good thing.”

John frowned, then looked over as Lafayette stirred. His journal, quill and ink disappeared, sent back to their room, and John got on his knees. “Laf,” he said. “We need to go.”

Lafayette looked up at him with sleepy eyes, but didn’t complain, getting up instead. “What is it?”

“Washington wants to see us,” John said, looking up at him.

Lafayette blinked. “...Why?” He looked at the three in front of them as though just realizing they were present.

“Just go!” Alexander said, a grin on his face. “You should not keep him waiting.”

Lafayette gave him a strange look, but didn’t say any more. He pulled John into his arms, against his chest, stealing a kiss as their feet left the ground.

John felt breathless as earth turned to marble, nature traded for palace walls. Lafayette stole a second kiss before taking his hand, walking down the hallway. “Do you know what this is about?” he asked.

John shook his head. “Nothing that I know of.”

They gave each other a strange look before Lafayette reached for one of the double doors, pulling it wide open. John reached for Lafayette’s hand, taking a deep breath as they stepped into the room.

Washington sat on one end of the long table, looking almost tired as he leaned back in his seat, as though it had been an already rough day. His presence was otherworldly, electrifying, radiating a power that John had never gotten used to. John felt a strange urge for formality, to sink to one knee or bow.

“What is it?” Lafayette asked, his words curt but his tone exhausted. His hangover had likely not left him yet. John squeezed his hand, pressing close to him.

“Take a seat,” Washington said.

They did so, walking down and taking seats at the other end of the table. Lafayette grasped his hand under the table, holding tight.

Washington leaned forward. “Eliza, Alexander and Hercules came to me just now.”

John and Lafayette glanced at each other, both looking confused. “What for?” Lafayette asked after a moment.

“To discuss your… situation.”

John sat up straighter. He tightened his grip on Lafayette’s hand, palms sweating. If it were a mere discussion of the situation, would they be called here? “What of it?” he asked.

Washington took a moment. “Your actions went against our ancients laws, Lafayette, a violation that could not go unpunished. What I decided on has always seemed far too lenient, but you made it clear that to reverse your actions would be sacrificing you as well. That is something I could not bear.”

Lafayette was frowning. John bit his lip, his heart racing in his chest.

“I presumed this was lust. It would not be the first time you’ve claimed devotion and love for a mortal man or woman.”

“I’d never brought any of them to _this_ realm,” Lafayette huffed. “I never-”

Washington put his hand up. Lafayette fell silent.

“You’ve said as much. But I believed you would grow tired of him within a year and I would have to be the one to return him to his proper world.”

John swallowed at the thought. Whether Lafayette had become bored of him or not, returning home was never an option.

“Yet, you have not.” Washington leaned forward, his hands folded on the table. “Therefore, considering the years, and considering the _insistence_ of your friends… I’ve been convinced to rethink your situation.”

Lafayette’s grip on his hand was crushing.

“If you can assure me, again, that you two should not separate - I will lift your restrictions.”

“Never!” they cried in unison, standing from their chairs.

“I would never leave him, Father-”

“I could not-”

“Quiet!” Washington grumbled. The two fell silent. “Must you all talk over one another?

A moment of silence passed.

“You give your word, and you will be held to it.” His expression was stern, though not hostile. “... So it shall be done.”

“Th-Thank you.” John felt lightheaded. He looked up as Lafayette’s arms circled around his waist, pulling him close, and they didn’t have time to bid their goodbyes before their feet left the ground.

\------

Nothing felt different as they teleported into their room. There was no physical change, no transformation, that signaled anything was done to him. He couldn’t help but laugh as he was heaved up into Lafayette’s arms, quickly silenced with a kiss, and was dropped onto their bed with a bounce.

His laugh faded, and his heart raced, at the hungry look on Lafayette’s face. He leaned back and licked his lips, spreading his legs apart. “Laf?”

Strong hands grabbed his arms and pushed him back on the bed, lips claimed in a kiss that dripped with _love. Desperation. Need._ John felt his body stir under Lafayette’s and he gasped for breath as they parted. “My love,” he whispered. “Please, please, I need you-”

“Tell me what you want.” Lafayette pulled John’s legs to hook around his hips and cupped his cheek with his palm. “This is about you, sweet boy.”

John fumbled with his belt, his mind racing with ideas. They’d done so much to get around their restrictions, from teasing to restraints to different kinks. His cock filled with blood slowly and squirmed beneath Lafayette, biting his lip. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered. “I want you to fuck me and make me scream.”

Lafayette’s breath hitched in his throat, a tiny sound, but John took it as encouragement. He tossed his belt aside and pulled his garment up. “I want you to make me come,” he said. “Over and over until I can’t anymore. I want to feel you inside of me, _finally,_ I - “

He was silenced with a kiss, their tongues meeting, his cock grasped and stroked. John shuddered under Lafayette’s touch and arched his back, throwing an arm around Lafayette’s shoulders. He whimpered in his throat, moaning into his lover’s mouth.

“Keep talking like that,” Lafayette growled, “and I won’t have the patience to be gentle.”

They kissed again, then a second and third time, open kisses that made John melt under Lafayette’s touch. He heard a soft _click_ from their lubricant and his breath hitched, spreading his thighs wider. “Laf,” he whimpered. “Please... “

“Shh, darling.” Lafayette gazed at him, slicking his fingers with the lubricant. “Relax for me… like that, perfect.”

John took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut as the first finger pressed against his entrance, pushing against the muscle, a strange sensation that made his toes curl. He took a deep breath as it pushed deeper, and a second finger pushed in beside it, opening him further. For a few seconds, there was no movement, and John stared up at Lafayette. He rocked his hips a bit, testing the feeling, and made a soft whine.

“Too fast?” Lafayette whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

John shook his head. “Too slow.”

Lafayette smiled at him, then let a third finger slip inside. He began to thrust them, an easy pace that made John gasp and squirm. “You look gorgeous,” he murmured. “Can’t wait to fuck this virgin ass.”

John gasped and shuddered when all three fingers pulled out at once. “Laf, hurry, please-”

He nearly choked when it was replaced by Lafayette’s cock. He moaned as kisses were pressed to his neck, one leg pushed back against his chest. “Shit,” he gasped as one inch pushed inside, then a second. He felt a burning sensation around his rim, slowly sliding deeper inside of him, his hole spreading around the intrusion.

When their hips met, Lafayette settling balls-deep within him, John gasped. He swallowed and curled his toes, feeling as though he were impossibly deep. He rocked his hips and looked up at Lafayette.

Lafayette smiled and kissed him. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck me,” John whimpered. “Please, please, I-I need it--”

Lafayette silenced him with a kiss before pulling back. He slammed back inside with a grunt and John cried out, his back arching. “Fuck! F-Fuck, Laf, you’re so _fucking_ big, shit--”

Lafayette’s hips snapped forward, burying deep inside with each thrust. He took hold of John’s hands and pinned them to the headboard, their fingers intertwining, John’s cries ever so musical in his ears. He’d dreamed of this for _years,_ the vision of John spread out and stuffed full of his cock finally fulfilled. The man felt _small_ beneath him, almost delicate, and John’s expression of overwhelming pleasure was enough to make his cock rock hard.

John was shaking. It burned as Lafayette plunged in and out of him, but the lubricant made the friction smoother and the pleasure began to shine through. He wanted more, wanted his cock to be touched, but no hand was free and he could only whine and buck his hips. “L-Laf,” he gasped. “I - I need to come, I need to come, please, please, ohh--”

“Quiet,” Lafayette snapped, his tone so low and sexual that John was throbbing. Neither addressed the harsh command, their lips meeting in a desperate kiss, sweat sticking their skin together. “... M’ close, sweet boy, you’re so fucking _hot…”_

Lafayette’s weight pushed him down into the bed, trapping John’s cock between them, but the friction was just enough. John squirmed, gasping as he was pounded, and his orgasm crashed into him like a wave against a brick wall; he _howled,_ arching his back as come spurted from his tip. He pulled his hand from Lafayette’s and grasped himself, rubbing frantically, chasing the coattails of his bliss-

He cried out as his hand was pulled away, trembling with the force of his orgasm, hardly noticing that Lafayette had stilled inside of him to release his own load. Muscles jumped beneath his skin, still throbbing as semen pooled on his belly. “Laf,” he gasped. “... Ohh…”

They gazed at each other for a few moments before John pushed up for a kiss. Lafayette smiled against his lips before obliging, settling overtop of John. “My darling boy,” he whispered. “Mine in every way.”

“Yours in every way,” John said back, eyes fluttering shut. They were far from done, but he felt far too boneless and relaxed to start a second round.

“Done so soon?” Lafayette murmured by his ear, careful as he adjusted them. They laid on their sides, back to chest.

John shook his head as nimble fingers freed his curls from their tie. His hair fell loose over his shoulders and he looked up at Lafayette. “Give me a minute,” he mumbled. “... Felt too good.”

Lafayette chuckled and held him tighter by his waist, planting kisses along his shoulder. He shifted his hips and John sucked in a breath as he felt his cock move. “Getting dry,” he said.

Lafayette nodded and pulled out. As he reached for the bottle of lubricant, John turned and brought his hand to Lafayette’s soft length. “I love you,” he whispered, beginning to stroke. “I love you so much. You saved me.”

He received a smile and a kiss, his hand gently pushed aside. Lafayette spread the lubricant over his cock, then pressed a finger between John’s legs. “I knew you were the one,” Lafayette said. “When I saw you in that alley - I knew I had to have you.”

“You have me.” John spread himself wider, then moaned as Lafayette pushed back inside. “O-Oh, shit…”

“For the rest of eternity.” Lafayette pressed a kiss to his hair, then sat up, pulling John with him. John gasped and grabbed for a hold on Lafayette’s shoulders. “... Ride me.”

John’s cheeks flushed. Gods, he’d fantasized about such a thing for so long, and the mere thought had his cock hardening again. A moment of uncertainty passed - he’d never done such a thing before, wasn’t sure what to do - when Lafayette set hands on his hips and pulled him to move.

John’s breath hitched. He gasped as he was pulled down, Lafayette’s cock filling him up again in a single move. He started to move with Lafayette’s direction, bracing his hands against Lafayette’s shoulders, and took a shaky breath as he found the rhythm. “Shit,” he whimpered, thighs trembling under his own weight.

“That’s it, little one,” Lafayette drawled, one arm wrapping around John’s waist. “So tight…”

John buried his face in Lafayette’s neck, breathing heavy as he rode. His curls were tugged sharply and he moaned in pleased pain. “A-Ah, oh - oh - Laf..!”

He let out a cry as Lafayette thrust up just as he came down. He came to a stop, trying to catch his breath, trying to not spend himself right there. He squirmed, feeling how _big_ Lafayette was-

“ _John.”_ Lafayette tugged his hair again, a stab of pain where it was pulled, and John blinked through the haze. “Don’t _stop.”_

The aggression in his words was enough to jolt John from his thoughts and he sucked in a breath. He began bouncing again, managing a faster pace this time, and swallowed as Lafayette gave him a pleased smirk. “Look at you, my little slut,” he cooed. “Can’t wait to drench you in my come.”

John shivered but kept his focus enough to keep grinding. He whimpered and felt that stirring in his belly, the building orgasm, as though summoned by Lafayette’s words. He moved faster, chasing that feeling, and one hand came to his own dick. “So clo - close…”

“Come for me, sweet thing,” Lafayette growled, digging his fingers into John’s thigh.

A final thrust up pushed John over the edge. He cried out and dug his nails into Lafayette’s arms, struggling for a hold, collapsing as his legs gave out. His muscles clenched and he gasped as he was pinned against Lafayette’s chest. Hard, fast thrusts slammed into him, bruising and rough and _perfect._ John whimpered and squirmed, never quite able to catch his breath--

More warmth seeped inside of him, adding to a preexisting mess, and John felt a serene calm. His sticky release was trapped between their bellies, sweat coating their skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Lafayette nuzzled his hair and leaned back against the headboard, careful in how he pulled out of John. “You’re bleeding,” Lafayette said.

John could feel a sting around his rim. “It’ll heal,” he mumbled. His belly was beginning to ache. “... Wanna suck you off next.”

Lafayette smiled and rolled them over, caging John against the mattress with his body. “My darling boy,” he said.

“Just kiss me,” John said with a grin.

\--------

He woke the next morning with a soreness between his legs and a warmth at his back.

John blinked the sleep from his eyes, then yawned. Lafayette’s snores were soft, his arms wrapped snugly around John. John smiled back at him, then carefully lifted his arm and the blanket. As he slipped out from the warmth of their bed, Lafayette grumbled and reached for a pillow, rolling to face the other side of the room.

John smiled with adoration, then reached and grabbed his robe from the back of a chair. He slipped it on and tied it around his waist, then walked to their balcony. As he opened the doors, he was greeted with the rising sun, just a little more than half above the horizon. Lafayette must have shot his arrow and returned to bed.

Birds were chirping and swooping between the trees. A few of the angels walked by on the path below, talking amongst themselves. The world, overall, did not look or feel different, but he himself did. Something in _him_ was different.

And it wasn’t just the loss of his virginity.

He couldn’t quite pin it in his mind. Perhaps it was the knowledge that now he could not be valued only for his purity, as he had been back home. Or it was that for all his past fears and anxieties, it was _Lafayette_ who had claimed him, and that it had not been the burning, aching, painful sex he’d been told of.

Maybe it was that now, as of last night, they were _accepted._

He leaned over the railing, feeling the sun hit his face. Strong arms wrapped his waist, that familiar warmth pressing into his back, soft lips kissing his neck. “Come back to bed,” Lafayette said, a pleading tone in his voice. “It’s cold without you.”

John thought that rather ironic, but didn’t resist as his hand was taken and he was led back into their bedroom. He followed Lafayette back into bed and giggled as he was pulled close, their foreheads touching.

“I love you,” Lafayette mumbled, squeezing John.

“I love you too,” John mumbled back.

They kissed softly, legs tangling beneath the sheets, soft and warm and loving. John tucked his head next to Lafayette’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He let himself drift off back to sleep, safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr - coffee-quill  
> Kacie's tumblr - likearootlesstree
> 
> The next fic in the universe is being outlined. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr - coffee-quill  
> Kacie's tumblr - Likearootlesstree


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